in pieces

a poem

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A soul person—a whole person.

Brittle breath sustained by Holy Wind.

Infinity and fragility built into blood,

sent into motion with ordinary step.

Each day—pathway toward life or death.

Each moment—capacity for beauty or beast.

With fear-loitering courage,

I haul the monsters from secret shadows.

The black holes of their empty eyes

beg for submission.

I begin to understand how I assembled

these pieces in their reserved space,

tucked away in chasmic corner

beyond warmth of window’s hope.

They claim to take up all I am,

but I know their miniscule place.

Beloved and broken—I lay bare the wounds

I've let bleed over those I love.

I have held hands with darkness,

danced with destruction,

waded into waters of despair,

and hurt others beyond repair.

And even there,

You love my pieces wholly, with care.