It broke.

Tiny at first, the smallest of cracks,

in the armor I’ve build around my heart.

Strong… safe.

But when I saw the anguish in the woman’s face,

as she told me of a family shattered,

by an illness,

Easily treated, easily controlled, survivable.

If you have the money.

She told me of her children growing too soon,

Putting each other through school,

taking turns,

getting the education they’ll need to survive,

if another whim of politics decides they aren’t worthy,

of the world in which they grew up…

through no fault of their own.

I felt the cracks widen as the woman described her husband, 

lover, friend,

broken…

With no recourse but be at home,

waiting to die.

I saw it in my mind,

felt the familiar chill.

Feeling the cry of the cornered,

the visceral pull at the gut,

and the rush of tears for the plight of those in whose tracks I once walked,

As a waterfall.