[we shatter the world]

we shatter the world
with our grief;
the pieces spin on the floor of the universe, uncounted
through the tears. we cannot
build another, or mend what was
never meant to be broken. we
sit with our backs to the wall
of reality,
questioning each heartbeat, and with small
whispers, asking
why
did the sun rise again today?

we do not understand the purpose of pain
because we do not want to own that its origin
was birthed in our rebellion. Disassociative disorder.
What's mine is mine is mine...we snarl even as we weep.
And yet,
though we are lying, small-bodied, in the corner
of our own ignorance,
you pause. Compassion.

You see us shaking with sorrow and fear,
like wounded animals, helpless.
Gently, You take the shards of our pain
into Your hands, showing
that all things - in this world and the next -
can be made whole.

Rebellion turns to joy, but the
pain remains. You understand
pain.

You know the blackness when the
universe is shattered by grief. You know what it is
to be broken. Yet You are the builder...
what's Yours is Yours is Yours....
And yet, You cry words of love,
even as You weep, reminding us
to hope
because the sun did rise again today.