I have found the cure for heartbreak.
It was hidden in a small nook behind my left ear.
Stuck for too long tangled in a strand of my own hair,
Which had grown wild and a little long under the admiring gaze of a man.
Who knew it was there?
When I retrieved it, it shook itself off and stretched,
As a dog might, just before he is invited for a walk.
It smiled and winked and explained itself.
“Distraction,” the cure said simply.
I said nothing, attentive to what other wisdom it might offer.
It remained silent for awhile, perched in the palm of my hand,
Gazing out at the world of humans, with all of its’ drudgery and drama and impermanence.
And at the trees in their rooted stillness.
Then the cure smiled at me,
Its’ little brownish face sleep-wrinkled but clear-eyed.
I was impatient for more.
“Distraction?”, I asked.
“That’s right,” said the impish creature,
Stretching out across my palm.
Propping itself up on an elbow,
It looked up at me with a cheeky glint.
“Because you people will not stay put long enough to see how it goes.
You don’t have the patience, or the stamina.
And have trouble standing for long enough in your own pain,
To see it’s end.
– by Fiona Hough