I lost the life I thought I was going to have, and what surprised me was how long the losing lasted.
Shards
I feel it hard and cold in my hand
the ice is shifting, the drink is sloshing
the glass is sweating in my palm
I take one wrong step and feel it start to slip
My grip isn’t just right, but I grip it tighter
It slides right through my hand
I reach, but I am too slow
It tumbles away, end over end
crashing onto the floor, bouncing, spilling,
shattering into pieces that land as far out as they can reach
Now I need to clean up the mess I made
trying to do it without a cut, without a bleed, without pain
I dry it all up, I gather the pieces, and I sweep the shards
I think I made it all go away
But some of the shattered pieces of it unknowingly stay behind
in places I forgot to look, or can’t see, that I don’t even know exist
for weeks, for months, for years
tiny pieces of what it used to be
hidden in the nooks, the cracks and the corners
sometimes catching the light, or landing in my skin
reminding me of the big slip, the fall, the shattering
So I stop ignoring them or sweeping them away
I let the pieces live where they landed
This is my floor now, I let the broken shine
Still becoming, with love… ~amy