Something inside me broke–
and it’s been a gathering of shards and scraps since.
I’ve been holding the pieces to my chest
asking God for it to be fixed.
But maybe the shards of glass are just sand
and they’re meant to blow away with the wind.
Perhaps what was broken was intentionally finished
so I may receive what God wants to give.
The words are what happen
when I’m sliced across the middle
and sand falls out of my body.
They swirl and bound
until they settle on the ground,
gentling moving with the wind.
Until then, they jump like memories
that pull apart and come back together–
quick– before they disintegrate in your hands
But to write
is to wring out all the words inside you.
They belong on the ground by the sea.
And if you look up, you realize,
you have hollowed out and made room for the stars.
-World Poetry Day 2018
into the waters of August
and a glorious sunset–
smooth sailing away.