“How Do You Heal a Broken Heart?” new poem by Erwin A. Thompson

My father woke up in the night last week with part of this poem in his mind and walked into his dining room office to write it down on a construction clipboard on blue-lined paper….which is where I found it when I came to visit.

As we chatted about it, I suggested it might be fun to try as an exchange of letters between the father and daughter. I’m so pleased that Pop agreed to experiment with my idea, yielding the poignant result below.

I particularly thrill to the lines: “Each task you did with love and skill/ Was like a work of art” as that exactly expresses for me the way I see my father approaching his work, and his love for fixing things. —JGR

________________________________________

Erwin A. Thompson, author of Thompson Western Series and Folk Treasure
Erwin A. Thompson

Dear Daddy,

My dolly, when her arms came off,
You fixed as good as new.
And then you fixed my roller skates,
When they lost a screw.

Each task you did with love and skill,
Was like a work of art.
I’ve got another job for you.
What do you have to heal a broken heart?

Dear Daughter,

Well, Honey—I don’t righly know.
That’s a bigger job, by far.
You need to crawl up on my lap,
Or listen to my old guitar

There is a song for everything,
Sorting through the pile.
Soft, sad music for the heart break
And some will make you smile.

You always loved with all your heart,
You gave your treasure to a friend.
You gave your heart to careless hands
With heart break at the end.

I cannot change this careless, thoughtless world
Or its people, and the things they do.
Just come on home, and rest awhile;
And be ready when it’s time to start anew.

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9 Comments

  1. I’m holding back tears. This is so powerful and touching. I was at my parent’s 50th wedding anniversary celebration yesterday. Old friends I hadn’t seen in years came to remind us of the love we share way back when. My first husband, the father of my children, of course was not there. Everyone asked about him–I suppose even I missed him as I watched the slide show my brother had put together of the “good old days.” Where did the love go? It is held only in the moments we share with those we love now. Thank you for sharing your love and your Pop’s love in this poem.

    Yvonne

  2. Thank you, Yvonne…I know my father will particularly appreciate your
    comment. I love what you say here…Where did the love go? It is held
    only in the moments we share with those we love now….oooooo…..this
    is eloquent!

    My father mentioned my sisters HS breakup anthem “Careless
    Hands”….and I always found such solace in music when love went
    wrong. Love and poetry…such friends they are.

    Thanks for keeping the love alive and sharing it back with us.

    Janet

  3. The connection of love is never broken. You and Pop are examples of that love and it’s energy is flowing in your every thought and action. A heart full of emotion does experience the pain of separation, but the consciousness of love only knows unity. From that unity you express the free will to share your life in unconditional service and in complete awareness that love is all there is.That process awakens your emotions and you become a grander version of spirit in human form.
    Thanks for the wonderful post.
    Hal

  4. Hi Anti J! How awesome that poem is ! I love it. I remember I have asked grandpa the same advice before… ” How do you heal a broken heart? ” He mailed me poems, old songs, and told a few stories of his own heartbreaks. When I was done drying my eyes… I felt better! Erwin Thompson…an amazing man he is! You are great yourself! I love you.
    Sarah Ann

  5. Love and poetry are indeed our friends. Indeed, for me they have been and are my salvation. I wonder sometimes whether oldsters … like your father and like me… may have loved differently, even more deeply, living much of our lives in simpler, quieter times. My husband was the person I most wanted to spend time with, and even in angry moments, it never occurred to me that we would ever be apart, so long as we lived. Thank you for this poem, which made me cry … just a little.

  6. Your letters reaches deep, like a voice whispering in my ear A poltice, drawing true feeling, thought, and encouragements to the surface in such honesty . Its automation escapes fingertips with unexplained clearity. I have corresponded by poetry to a dear friend now deceased, and old enough to be my mother. Communion felt, and relayed with such deep understanding– feel, and hear her voices response.

  7. Janet, I was working on our “project” tonight and stumbled on this poem. It’s with such gratitude that I receive all the gifts that are being given to me. Thank you for being the channel.

  8. how i wish i could do the same to my father and vice versa… i love my father so much (and my mom as well), but i am too shy to let him know about my love issues lately. i’m sure he knows ’cause my mom told him about it, but he is just so silent and leave no comments. I am the only child and i know my father loves me, we always sing together. He also plays guitar while i will be the one singing. lastly, i am more confident in sharing my emotions to my mom rather than to my dad, but i love him and there’s no doubt about it. 🙂

  9. Aunt Janet, Thank you for posting the link to this collaborative piece, written by you and Grrrr in the comments of my blog post, “Q&A: heartbreak”. I remember reading it when it was written, a few short years ago. My response must have been via email, so it’s not in the archive here. I enjoyed reading your joined words again today. Love, Janean
    http://my.opera.com/jbaird/blog/2011/11/10/q-a-heartbreak

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