Soft and torn tiny knee and grazed hands.
Clever one catching the momentum.
Any more stones embedded there? We'll extract them now
And stories to distract us
From the gruesome task and then
We'll set them by and know they came close to the bone.
But those ones stuck inside,
That got in through the ears and eyes,
They've keen edges those subtle knives.
Slice open and lay bare.
A thousand silent tears fall again to dishwater and grey pillows.
Another thousand resolutions to open windows
And let the air blow through.
That silence maker.
That breaker of spirits.
That invisible line between love and hate
That strong-arming bone shaker.
A length and breath...
A circumstance in which... something else... can happen.
Make new patterns
And re-examine the old ones
So they can be broken
And let the bones