Poem: A Million Shards of Grace


A Million Shards of Grace

You wake slow and dark.
No matter.

You fight the daily battle just to get moving.
No matter.

You have pushed back the dark.
You (almost) always do.
Knowing you can is half the battle.
But the battle itself?
No matter.

It says nothing about your character,
nothing about your strength.
You were born to a long line of survivors
and the gene runs deep.

There is beauty to find.
Sunlight in the kitchen.
Mist around the mountain creeks.
The bare shoulder of the woman you love as she sleeps next to you.
Air, clean and brisk.
Every moment making a lie of your inner darkness.

You have learned.
In the morning, your mind lies.
The world tells the truth.
And you know who to believe
as your put feet to the ground.

It is cold outside,
Not quite frost. A heavy dew coats the cars.
A cat’s pawprints mark the porch boards.
The October air stirs you.
In the distance, you can smell a wood stove or two
keeping up with the season.

The coffee cup in your hand steams
and you smile.
It is, it seems, an easy day.
The darkness surrendered with nary a whimper this morning,
defeated by simple reality.

A god who would surround you with a million shards of grace
even in the midst of war,
is a God worth believing.

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