The Sleeping Shard
Sometimes things sleep,
waiting for me to
stay up too late
or eat too many granola bars
Gnawing, hoarse, troublesome things
that were supposed to be gone
last year or perhaps the year
before, and yet
Other things sleep too,
good, green things planted long ago
that can survive unfed
with little light or love
waiting patiently for
me to remember where
I laid the keys to
all I am
the real things, true
things remain, unbreakable
because they are already
broken. Waiting for
me to take off my
shoes and step on the
jagged truth of them.
tonight, amidst the din
of everything but words,
my soul stepped on
something sharp and
true. Something scary.
It was the best feeling
in the world.
