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

< And So We Repair