Thank You

You poked holes in my heart -
the heart decidedly not on display,
the heart closed for renovations,
the heart with layers and layers
wrapped around it, only some
I remember putting there.

You poked holes in my heart
with questions the size of
pinpricks, and then pushpins,
working deftly, without
my noticing the changing landscape.

You poked holes in my heart
and then, meeting my protest,
made me look down at
my open chest.

You poked holes in my heart,
and instead of blood pouring out,
instead of seeing life leave me -

as it had before,
as I was afraid it would now -

I welcomed the light that flooded through.