Worth the Learning

I have been pulled apart,
left for dead. Left for the vultures.
Separated into parts and pieces.
Disconnected. Ruined.
Left to rot. Broken. Broken again.
Lied to. And worse. I have bled
far too much and too often and yet
somehow
I am still here.

Given new life. Found new life.
Reconstructed. The parts rearranged,
but not so often I am not recognized
by the historians in my life.
A lesson in restoration and just how often
it can be done, and how often no one knows
it is happening before their eyes,

Because collapse often happens in a moment
(though it really doesn’t. We just miss the rot),
restoration is a slow process that needs
a few bits of a foundation, faith,
and a God who believes in me,
even when I do not.

And so I rebuild. Again. Retool.
Take on a challenge I am not suited for,
not comfortable with, because
in the end, it is the strain that builds,
not the coasting. A lesson learned
the hard way, but still
worth the learning.

About this poem

Someone called me resilient today. I rarely think about it, but when I do, I think it is true. I hope I can continue to be. One wonders where the limits are.

The picture was taken in Bellows Falls, where they have a train graveyard. How cool is that?

Tom