Circuitous circus of chaos and strife
And the moment stops and we stare
Into well-known eyes
glittering and lined with the stress
of today, and yesterday, and tomorrow.

Tears of anger, of hurt, of happiness –
hiding in deep and suffocating sorrow
That neither of us know how to lift
without breaking apart the already shattered fragments
of who we are, who we were, who we will be.

Wanting to believe every word
knowing that there might be Truth hidden
under the words actually being said.

Losing the trail head, the trail itself,
and any semblance of a marker has been skewed
in the ambiguity of what we want to believe.

While knowing the truth.

Afraid that lifting the sorrow will tilt the
table and like a jigsaw puzzle
scattered, we’ll have to put the hard earned pieces
back together.

And we’re paralyzed by fear.

And maybe that’s just it: that the pieces
aren’t only meant for one puzzle,
one trail, one way of laying themselves flat
to be held down by sorrow.

Maybe together we collect these
shattered fragments and refuse to
cover them back up.

We sift and saw and melt the molds,
Cut out the hurt that hides light.

Together
rebuild a three-dimensional model from
the scattered shapes
to look less and less like a puzzle
and more like a

Home.

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.

Isaiah 9:2 (NIV)