Broken Parts
I can no longer
play on the floor with my children, chase after them down the street, carry them back to their beds after their nightmares have passed.
I can no longer
get up when I fall into a drift of snow, climb to the top of a waterfall, skate around a rink holding hands, laughing.
I can no longer
race my hands across black and white keys, make a cake a work of art, prepare a feast for a crowd,
without paying a toll that may prove
too high.
But,
most days,
I can still do what must be done,
not because I am Strong, but because there is no other choice I can accept.
So, I choose to
endure
and
find Strength
in the endless blue of a cloudless sky, the flaming red on the horizon, the burnished bronze of dying leaves, the green promise of new life.
in the beauty of a turn of phrase, the magic in an artist’s hand, the soaring notes that tug at my soul.
in the laughter of children who’ve yet to discover darkness.
in the admiring gaze of my lover.
in the miracle of a truly sympathetic ear.
in the warmth of arms that hold me through my tears.
in knowing
My beleaguered body
My foggy mind
My weary heart
can still embrace and offer solace to Another Soul
suffering
with burdens, pain, and grief that cannot be borne
alone.
in the reminder that I am more than my illness
and
this life is more than the sum of my broken parts.
