Self Care and Broken Sidewalks

Cracks in the concrete.
Shifting soil.
A slow breaking.

It takes time for the world to end.
The devil leaking between the fissures
like winter water, patient, content

to let us feel safe, even
as the underpinnings rot,
wash out with each storm.

I have lived it, that slow falling apart
and the slower rebuilding,
stronger the second time around,

more God in the mortar,
less me, an acute awareness
of the value of maintenance

changes everything.

About this poem

A long, flat hard week.
And here I am at the end, writing.
taking care of my soul
with the words spilling like blood.
A leeching of emotion to leave room for more.

Once you have come undone in life
you are aware, acutely aware
of your weaknesses,

Once you have climbed out of the darkness
you become aware of something else –
your truest strength.

I don’t always make sense. But battles are like that. Chaos in the midst of them. The poem part of the “about this poem” started out as prose, until I realized it too was a poem.

Be well. Travel wisely. I am taking a couple of days off of writing.

See you Monday.

Tom

PS: I have no idea where I took this picture.