Grief on hold

In the sunshine,
I always feel most whole.
Which is ironic.
Because in the sunshine,
you must surely be able to see
all of my cracks-
the pieces that have been pieced back together with whatever lie closest at hand,
just to make me upright.
I never considered this until now.
That I have been hiding within the sun- the light.
Exposed, and yet,
acting as though you could not see my brokenness-
past that which I choose to reveal.
But that would be…
In fact, that IS,
a lie.
Brokenness reveals as a whole because broken is broken.
Even when you think that it’s fixed. Being whole means the broken pieces too.
Wholly broken…
could mean completely back together. So much of life is not either, or…
but just all.
It is both.
It is the one
AND the other.
It is the all
and the AND.
Here lies my grief,
or rather the grief that I hold
AND the grief that holds me.
Here lies that which has died
and is no more,
except that it always will be.
Here lies that which has died
only here within me,
but still lives on outside of me-
the days when I think,
I’m only feeling Minnesota.


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