Heart Attacked

I fear my heart,

It's restless beat-beating that never tires or rests or slows,

not even in sleep.

I fear my heart and its wandering desires 

that tip back and forth like a balancing bird,

not yet convinced it should fly,

fervently unwilling to remain still. 

I fear my heart. 

I cannot trust it. 

It's like trying to control a helium balloon

tied to a pebble by a child,

let loose in the gale of a hurricane.

I fear my heart, wild and slipping, 

madly, desperately trying to stabilize 

independently. On its own.

It clings to everything, to others, snatching as they press past

as though it knows it needs them to help, but it won't allow itself to ask.

I am failing, alone. I feel it failing, too.

I fear my heart.

I fear its weakness. I fear its needs.

I fear the power it wields over my mind and strength.

It asserts its authority; it overwhelms its own sweetness with the bitterness of anger.

I fear its division; the civil war of it all, the wreckage it promises.

It shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't fear the overflow.

But there is a poison of malice that has been seeping out, slowly; 

a black tar of thoughts and words from a sick, dark heart.

I need a cure. I need a doctor.

You say you heal the brokenhearted.

This fracture has become infected. I now need more than a re-setting.

Restore, LORD. Revive this heart of fear.