Broken: A Poem of Longing

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As I sweep up the glass bowl my daughter broke,
Lucky that I sent her upstairs before I spoke something I regretted,
Besides, it’s only a bowl and I’m glad her feet weren’t cut where she haphazardly tredded,
But I can’t help but feel sad,
The bowl was a gift from my dad,
I mean, he’s still alive, it’s not THAT tragic,
But the magic of life has been shattered,
That idealogy of childhood that stated that if things really mattered to me,
they would last for eternity,
It’s just not true.
I’m not sure when this belief flew the coop,
But it has consistently been reinforced since I was too old to be naive, too young to understand and this moment as I stoop over this mess,
The crest of shards waiting to slice my fingers,
as I pick up the biggest chunks and listen to the lingering sound of tinkling glass against glass,
And I try to think past the times of hurt and disappointment sent to me lately…almost too regularly,
And he comes in with a dust pan and a broom looming over my bent frame,
Only half-aware of my pain Something inside me has changed,
And I’m not the same,
I’m losing grip that anything we do holds purpose,
The beauty of this world and all its lusts grow dim,
As I long for the sound of rushing wind that will one day call me home,
Because even in a world with millions of people, a person can still feel alone,
I know my life is only God’s to take ,
but I can’t help the feeling that I long for a world where things don’t break.

-Elaine Mingus 9/29/2013

Broken Pin 7946362

Elaine Mingus

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