And So We Repair
In the aftermath of collapse
whatever its shape or however it arrives, the force is fearful.
Yet life continues to demand its own satisfaction
that we breathe and eat and walk, do small everyday things
thinking, knowing, I cannot, I cannot.
Is it a sentence that must be served
or a hope that must be allowed breath?
A rock slowly changes its form
a tree heals a wounded limb
us too.
Time layers over the sore, never gone
never gone, but getting quieter
buried deeper, as other happenings come along
changing our shape from how it was to how it is.
Such persistence life demands despite ourselves
as wounds stitch their own shape
and we somehow repair