by lynnkennison

Often, I’ve wondered

if we are broken souls

are we considered lost

Or perhaps we can carry our shattered pieces along the way

Carry our damages with us, gently bear them across the miles

If we’re allowed, I’ll reach down into the dirt with both of my hands

sweep my pieces into a box

Hold on tight

with all my strength

Move my feet

 against the flood

the downpour of my life

Build a bridge

make amends

with all my wrongs

all my sins

Until I tip the box

on its side

and watch my pieces

settle back into place