Mosaic

Messier81

 

Life is a mistake
Like so many of us;
Beautiful, messy, unplanned.

From water-stained pages to ink-stained hands;
teary eyes with red faces;
broken glass & burning houses;
snoring & sex & sugar.

Like so many stars who remain unnamed
and unclaimed by any notorious constellation,
we flicker & smolder & die,
often before anyone even noticed we were there.
Often, without even having left any light behind.

Yet, insistent we burn;
Still, we glow.
Stubborn & stupid & hopeful & graceless;
floundering, bumping into corners, looking
for soft places to land.

Bruised & sticky & awkward.
Needing and wanting,
most of all.

And so full of love.
And so full of pain.
So full of our own brokenness,
warning others not to get too close
lest they end up bleeding
from our sharp wounds,
our damages,
that we can only sometimes manage
to haphazardly cement
back together.

Maybe.

It’s a mistake.
An error.
An imperfection.
An Existence-Essential Anomaly.

Flaws & tantrums & gunfire;
Screaming & dancing,
Singing & praying & painting…

There’s too much to feel;
Too much that needs fixing;
Too much that needs saying;
Too much to ever see or do
half as well as it deserves.

And we still keep going, knowing all this;
Knowing nothing.
Some of us.
Overwhelmed, gasping, laughing, crying.
Smiling.

There is nothing more than this mess.
Nothing more than that hope.
Nothing more than our hearts.

+ Katie +

(Originally written on 11/23/16. Edited at the time of posting.)