These patterns  – shards from a broken dome,
sharp edges of shattered expectations,
point to places ripe for change

This problem was never
as contiguous as I thought,
and my habitual reaction
is not the only way to be

I reconsider  –
no need to be soft and cut and sobbing,
no need to bleed, waiting to be saved,
that which can shatter
has never been the truth,
that which is helpless
has never actually been me.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 10, 2023