Wrecked

Now and then I become wrecked all over again.  Sometimes it's a news headline.  Sometimes it's a memory.  Sometimes a conversation.  Sometimes a photo stumbled upon which makes the world stand still.  Today it's all of that, compiled and combined.  I'm collecting it all right up under my grieving nose.  Bringing it into a heap.  An ugly heap.  So I can get a good look at it.  

And my heart is being ripped to shreds all over again.  

With the strength of a great bird's talons
Or the persistent claws of a wild cat

And it turns out I can't actually bear it at all. 


Now and then the longing swells back up inside of me, telling me that I'm in the wrong place and that I need to go.  Go.  Lay myself in the dirt of that place, ANY place, and let it be my place.  Let the foreign words pass back and forth and settle into my mind, my heart, my soul.  Let the smells become part of me.  The sounds, smells, tastes, smother me in their new, fresh strangeness until they are my mine, until they are me. 

And my heart is being ripped to shreds all over again.
And I can't bear it. 


Now and then I'm faced with my smallness.  My utter uselessness.  My pointless existence.  Listen to me, I have something to say.  But it turns out all of my ideas have been spun out by better minds.  Ironed flat and given a bow.  Someone else is doing it all.  And I'm here with my longing, my ugly heap, my churned up insides, my green grass and fridge full of food...and I think I'll just be sick.  

And my heart is being shredded in this beautiful place.  Bits flying about.  Will it mend?
I don't know but I'm sure I can't bear it.