Broken

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The autumn haze gleams
through every crevice of
every tree, leaf, and branch.


Ahead lies a broken bridge.
Ahead lies a broken memory.
Ahead--
is where I am afraid to venture,
where I feel vulnerable.


I step forward picking up
broken sticks and limbs.
I look back seeing a trail
of padded dirt and sunshine


Carefully I put each limb,
each stick down. I am afraid
to go further to test this bridges
strength.


and then you step ahead of me
and show me the way. you hold
my hand and walk me across.


This is the memory I remember.
I do not remember the breaking of
every limb. I do not recall the sensation
of falling to the ground, my heart soon
after.


However, this is what became.
This is the result of broken trust,
faith, love. Thank you. For showing
me the art of breaking a heart





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