Posts Tagged ‘broken’


Moon broken, my son said
when he was two,
and he pointed east
to the quarter moon.
Mommy fix it.

He believed I could.
I wanted to believe it, too,
wanted to believe
I could fix any broken thing—

the loose button on a doll,
the ripped page in a book,
a scraped up knee,
a tattered dream.

Tonight I gaze
at the low crescent moon.
I have lost my belief
in fixing.

Count me among
the broken things.
And my son is gone.
And my son is gone.
And the beautiful moon slips lower
into the almost dark.

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Again the urge

to bring gauze

to the broken world—

and medicine

and a plaster cast.

Again the urge

to fix things,

to heal them,

to make them right.

Again the chance

to do the work,

which is to look in,

to touch the pain

but not become it,

to see the world

exactly as it is

and still write it

a love letter,

to meet what is cracked

with clarity,

to mirror and grow

whatever beauty

we find.




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No way to pretend we’re not broken, no way not to see how dazzling we are.

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All week it’s been rising,

this longing to fix the places

in me that feel broken—

and then your letter arrives,

a celebration of brokenness,

and I become one of those Japanese pots

in which every crack is repaired

with fine gold.

Sometimes it happens,

we hold for each other

a generous mirror,

and though nothing has changed,

nothing’s the same,

even our fear turns to shine.


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