On our walk along the beach this morning
among the roar of the waves and those sweet saltwater smells
we hunted as we are want to do…for interesting shells.
We never know what we might find as the seashore is filled with surprises.
We usually end up with a myriad of shells in many shapes and sizes.
Today’s walk was a little different as we shared the same impulse…
though unspoken
for unbeknownst to either of us…some of our chosen shells…were broken.
While we were mesmerized by the magnificence and the beauty of our shells
We were taken with the natural beauty of the broken shells as well.
And it made me wonder if that’s not true of us…though it too often goes unspoken
for when you stop to think about it…aren’t we all…a little broken?
None of us are perfect…(wouldn’t that make life a little dull?)
and the fact that we’re all broken…is what makes us beautiful.
We are all distinctive…some of us are idiosyncratic, some colorful and some bizarre…
but it’s these subtle little differences that make us who we are.
As we look around our country today…
many signs abound and many cruel words have been spoken
that show how we are living in a land whose people have been broken.
We are a country left in pieces….a myriad of broken shells
and it is more important than it ever was…to find our beauty, now, as well.
I pray we find a way to combine our beauties…to make peace in compromises
and learn to live together with our myriad of broken shapes and colors and sizes…
May we uncover beauty in all our broken pieces…
like those we found today along the shore
And find a way to blend them all together…
into something more beautiful than before.
I am fascinated by your
I am fascinated by your stanzas, and how they shift their forms as the poem progresses. Do you plan it that way, or does it just happen as you put the poem together? I have tried to figure out the pattern, but am coming up short? Would you mind to explain that to me?
J-Called