Murderers of the heart

A home can  be a comfort or a cage;
A place to leave or rest in comforts dear.
We may feel like the bears that danced on stage
Or   sometimes find a sanctuary  from fear

Uncertain of our love a  spouse may be.
And so  they test us when there is no need
Is it not so clear to those who see
The test itself may make our love’s heart bleed?

Testing to destruction  is a crime;
To kill to feel a semblance of  our powers.
To test is  to make invalid good times
Murderers  of the  heart are   frightened cowards.

A home is not a place for setting tests
Be no murderer if you long for rest.