We are all of us beautiful and broken
Shattered in bits and tiny pieces
Staining the carpets with weeping red drops
From the thousands of tiny, criss-cross marks
On our soles
Where the bits of brokenness
Bit into our eager flesh.
Each fragment of our best selves
A ragged edge, a remnant of wholeness,
A delusion we played at as naïve children
When we still believed.
We are all of us broken and beautiful
Particles of the people we pray to be
Each of us begging the universe to
Send us a sign, to let us know
That we are not
And yet, here we are,
All of us, each of us,
Just as fractured and mangled as the others
Feeling defective, damaged, demolished.