
The year ends with heavy rains
As if to wash us all clean
Of the leavings and grime.
Now, standing with each year
For each foot of earth
Between us forever—
I gather to me
Broken pieces of colored glass
And think of—
Just after midnight,
An early morning
Long before dawn—
The third day of a new year six years ago,
You left in blinding, flooding rains.
If only on this third day
Of this new year—
I could open the earth
And roll a stone away,
Bringing you back from under
This six feet of earth.
But I have neither the strength
Nor the talent
For miracles great or small
When most days
There is not enough
Left over to become
A mosaic of brokenness.
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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Thank you again!
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Always happy to read and share, Annette!
😊💕🌹✨
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That is so powerful and so touching, Annette.
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Thank you!
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My pleasure 🤗
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