improbably divine, it happened still.
reborn, rebuilt, rebroken and rejoined,
like grass that grows across the asphalt scars,
some different kind of me with changing will.
adapting. morphed. you know, sometimes,
the thing what hurts you so, so much
can turn into a blessing in disguise.
or so I hope.

took out the glass shards from my feet,
then stepped one time, ignoring pains,
covered the road with my blood stains.
it hurts, but so important still. and so,

I'm ready now to step again
and re-discover

I received a message yesterday,
from an unexpected sender.
Someone I had not spoken to in years.

The last we spoke was in high school.
At the time,
I was dating a guy who loved to manipulate and lie,
and she was falling for him as our friendship grew.
We had a falling out,
after they both broke my heart,
and for so long I held so much anger for her.
I no longer trusted friends,
and I was insecure about everything.
I had never known such deceit.
But after we all parted ways,
I began to reflect on it all.
A part of me felt sorry for her.
She fell for him the same way I did.
How could I hate her for that?

The last thing I expected was an apology.
Especially after the bitter words we shared before.
She explained how awful she still felt,
and how she just wanted forgiveness.

It was a strange feeling to put something from the past to rest,
because so much happen that I never got closure for.
I had already decided I never would get closure for any of it.
I'm so glad I was wrong.

So much time and space
for the things
that have been smothered
and forgotten.

what you leave when you’ve left (mending the tormenting silence^)
 ———————————————————-—————————-


your words rock me, like an old time preacher,
mending, begetting, tormenting,
fire and brimstone you sinner,
if I don’t quit this life of loving words, saloon music,
guitar picking in low down dives,
liquoring and sinning,
choosing to choose poorly,
never and always thinking about the songs
you’ve left behind unplayed, pained

got the sun and the rain and all afternoon,
to contemplating leavings,
the crumbs you let drop,
the missteps took and missed,
drank too much, hurt too hard,
the silence of my history, it’s renting,
unrelenting, tormenting, lamenting and such,
those loves, labors that don’t amounted much,
a slow rush to fall, to count it all

you say, always time to mend what life
has rent, if you spend the time thinking,
‘bout what you gained, what you lost,
the net of both added and subtracted,
what you got, what you gave,
the sum of your begat,
a life’s story, to tell,
of life’s misgiving, unforced errors, and
crimes committed only you know

not sure what the total bill due gonna be,
combining the costs of the here,
the now, what was and wasn’t,
what was said, not believing but yet singing,
so when the check comes,
the summation of your life’s calculations,
get to add on a tip, a good-as-gold saying
it’s time that can mend, but knowing the true costs of time,
maybe, maybe not...

<§>
                         let  them reap what you have sown,
                    for the great designer will surely inquire
       what everybody knows is the forecast standard to be met,
     it is not what, how much you got, but what you begat, when,
                                              you’ve left

Not Elves, Exactly
by Michael R. Burch

(after Robert Frost's "Mending Wall")

Something there is that likes a wall,
that likes it spiked and likes it tall,

that likes its pikes’ sharp rows of teeth
and doesn’t mind its victims’ grief

(wherever they come from, far or wide)
as long as they fall on the other side.

Keywords/Tags: Robert Frost, mending, wall, fences, good, neighbors, southern, border, spikes, pikes, barbed, wire, electrical