Susan LaffertyWhen Someday seems too far, the fragile heart mourns. Torn. Tender.
Walking in the weight of sorrow.
Sitting in the dark.
And we cry out for rocky paths made smooth. The broken place, whole. Strong winds and high waves, stilled.
Longing to affirm the true. And say we are crushed but not in despair.
Back in the day we studied our stress by listing losses. Marking life experiences.
All the cross-cultural moves. Illnesses. Births. Deaths. Evacuations.
Added up, the numbers were telling.
Stress levels confirmed.
In December, a treasured necklace from Japan falls on the floor. Breaks.
And I get on my knees. Gathering broken pieces. Fragments.
Trying to put the puzzle back together. But it sits.
Incomplete.
So I place what remains in a bowl. Not ready to give up on it yet. Perhaps a shard or two skittered under a cabinet.
