Tissue Paper

Sometimes it slams into me before

I can brace, and so I can only

lean into it, let it

take me

tumble me

leave me breathless, heart pounding, out

of sorts, searching for words that

will bring breath

back to my lungs, shock my heart

back to rhythm, mend my soul of the

momentary tatters healed over again

and again.

*

A bone broken heals

harder. Stronger. A shredded soul isn’t as

durable, but it knows how to layer each tatter,

one over the other, creating a

tapestry bound by sorrow, and the

promise of joy.