"Make Me Whole"
Sometimes pieces
don’t realign as envisioned.
Sometimes they crumble
to pile up as dust.
Or they crack and shatter
across the floor.
Maybe they ripped to frays,
left hanging in the gales
but never carried away
when the world moves on.
Or did they splinter
like a wooden door
against a sledgehammer?
It never stood a chance
but it doesn’t mean
it can’t be whole again.
A fulgent coral sky
across barren icy lands
makes spring inevitable,
makes hope incipient,
even when fractured.
Sometimes feeling whole
comes after years of crafting
together minuscule pieces.
After which
no wind, no hands, no sledgehammer
can break you.
They can stand, numinous,
against your furious hues
effulgent against the shadows
in the distance behind you,
that agonizing dead end road
down which you ran blindly
for so many years.
You don’t live there anymore.
Your pieces melted into place
differently than before.
Image by Md Shahinur Islam from Pixabay
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