Papier mache heart

it takes tears
to melt the rice paper shell
that life builds around your heart
piece by piece
-- a small square
for a slight, a snub,
an unanswered call,
a whole sheet
for the boy who left
in the middle of the night.

it takes tears
to melt
the papier mache heart
that protects your own bloody one,
to soften the slips
of hardened paper,
and kind patience to peel them off.

"I remember you," you say
to the damp, torn
image held gently
now.
"It's OK. I don't need your protection,"
and you let it dissolve.

There are more tears to be cried,
more layers to melt,
to get to the muscle
of your own
great heart,
to let it grow
big enough
to invite the world
to share
its refuge.