When our hearts shatter

Into shards of grief and loss,

how can we mend the tatters?

~

To mend our shattered

hearts we must be given love

enough and unhurried time.

When sorrow’s sodden

wrap envelopes soggy souls,

What rekindled their fire?

~

Knowing that they’ll be

 given warmth and love and not

be hung out to dry.

When furious winds

fly havoc ’round our spirits,

Who picks up the scattered wrack?

~

Picking up always

seems to fall to those lucky

enough to survive and care.

Is the problem with

running, knowing when to start

or, more likely, when to quit?

~

To run or not to

run lies at the very heart 

of this elective matter.

Does the cult of fame

serve more as an indictment

of the famous or of us?

~

Blind worship cannot

serve either the worshiped or

the worshiper well.

When real issues go

ignored and lies unchallenged,

what happens to a nation?

~

The state of nations

rests in the quite able hands

of its honest citizens.

When the pain rises,

like mad sparks, shocking vision,

where can relief’s glimmer be?

~

I’ve heard when one’s heart

also opens to the pain

of others,  relief can come.

Would you call manic,

that reckless fool, who’s surfing

this hurricane’s jagged break?

~

He’s the one who’d call

us comfort-loving fools. Who’s

to say where the real truth lies?