Stories from the Rubble

Rising
is never as simple at it seems,
never a thing of magic,
but of painstakingly pulling off brick after brick,
ten thousand stories
of pain and abuse and neglect,
one piled on another
until we are buried, our stories lost
in the rubble,
unrecognizable,
a babble of brokenness
looking for a savior
who is less a miracle worker
than a patient listener who will stay the course,
and translate the pain
into something new,
compassion.

About this poem

First of all, I stole the title from a comment one of my readers, Melissa Larriviere, made on yesterday’s photographs. She’s aware of my thievery and approving, but I can’t claim it as my own.

The rest is mine.

Tom