I am not lonely

I am not lonely; I am alone,

though you would likely never know

for all the sound and fury, chaos and light

that fills my days and chokes my nights.

I am not falling apart; I am many parts-

emotions and habits, experiences, art,

bandaged together by a fragile gravity

that I call my self (mystery though she may be).

I am not broken; I am breaking down

the distance between who I thought I needed to be

to be loved and accepted in this world we call home,

and the messy, lovely child of God that is laughing through tears within.

Broken Vessels

Here lies my ruined vessel

      all shards and sharp edges

      jutting from the path beneath my feet.

Once she contained a world:

      a riot of marigold &

      fragrant mountain mint,

      scabiosas dancing in the summer breeze,

      peopled by bumbling bees and cautious moths;

      a feast for the senses.

Somehow, amidst the commotion of the living,

      I missed the quiet devastation working from within,

      borne of seasons and time and piques of weather

      each eroding what had once contained

      so much promise that

      I believed she would last forever.

I could not fix her if I tried.

      And I tried.

Now I’m left to ponder,

      As my hands grasp at these brittle, dismembered fragments:

      could there be beauty, even in this?