Like the plates of the earth
the world beneath my feet is solid and withstanding.
seemingly resolute,
it has held together with manageable
cracks and tears;
a steady foundation.

Like the plates of the earth,
my world begins to shift;
the cracks and tears grow suddenly
without warning I am thrown
into a tumult of confusion and discord.
Shifting becomes breaking;
slowly, piece by piece,
my plates split apart,
creating not a giant hole,
but a small and slivered crevice that
appears to swallow all of my breaking pieces.

Discomfort
unease
fully aware of each falling part
this turbulence continues;
days go by and more pieces
are breaking
and falling
and disappearing
before I can catch them
and hold them close
until my ground quits shaking.

For I have hit an earthquake
and I close my eyes
and grasp the few roots
left in this mess
and wait.

Now the shift is over
while the earth has finished its quaking,
my world is still trembling in recovery.
The balance has yet to be regained;
I am still assessing the damage,
waiting for the sun to shine again
to show me what is left to mend.

The bridge from discomfort to normalcy
quivers with every step,
but I find solace
on the rising sun’s horizon.
A small voice whispers,
“it is good.”

Today it is March
what a beautiful march it will be.