Blessed are the broken
because we know what pieces
have been taken and how to
give time, give attention
to what must be mended.
Yet the question still stands,
is broken so feasible when
it lends itself to decay—the death
of what remains? If what we
were given was meant to be
broken, we would’ve died long ago.
I’m not broken, maybe a bit misplaced.
But to mend with the mind, the heart
will grow far past that of decay.
We’re not broken hearted, just
the idea seems to lack logic.
We’re not inscribed by the time
that past has betrayed, we carry
on the process of building
by writing our own history.
April 16, 2007…six years later.
“For navigators who love the wind, memory is a port of departure.”