loving broken

 

“loving the broken
is just part of life, sher”
mom would say to me
with her lips curved up
in a smile,
her big brown eyes
twinkling…
‘but mom…’
is as far as i ever got
with any question
because she would always
“shhhh” me
squeeze my hand
rise up softly
pour a glass of wine
and gaze
at those
gold colored praying hands
with a tear glazing her eye
then nod her head
look downward
and i would just know
she knew things
i would never understand
until i, myself
was a mom
because
she
was
magic…

my mother
was the only person i knew
who opened her heart
to the hinged,
miss matched,
glued together,
mosaiced
messy,
finger painted souls
for this truly
described my father
and brothers…
no matter what they did
she
loved
them…
she never excused
any wrongs people did
she just gently
wove words together
that made you
silently sit
opened mouthed
unable to respond
to her common sense
guidance
and unconditional love,
then she would offer up
one of her yummy
cookies, brownies, cupcakes,
a slice of pie or cake
pour you a big glass
of cold milk
and sit with you
patiently watching you
enjoy her gift of baking…
once you were done
that was it
no more talk about it-
you
were
forgiven…

looking back on it
makes me giggle.
she was silent strength
all wrapped up
in a tiny colorful package
of faith
and
as you know
she was my heart…

knowing all this
led me to ask this question-
‘can one go home
while running away
from who you were?
and, when my father passes
one day,
will there be an end
to any questions?
will i know all the answers?
will he be exonerated?
will i still
be
alice?’

life is funny.

d
loves
me.

i
was
broken.

i will always have cracks
my stitches are, in places torn
some of my edges are frayed
and although most days
i am a brightly colored mess
i have those times
when weeping
overtakes me
and i am
a melting crayon
a messy watercolor version
of life…
on these days
he seems
to love me
even more
and i swear
pieces of my mom
live within him…

this brings me back
to the many times
we sat together
in various places,
with her always saying
the same thing,

“loving the broken
is just part of life, sher”

i beat myself up
over 25 years
for two failed marriages
because
i tried not just to love
the fragmented
shattered
crushed
but to fix them
leaving me
feeling defeated
and of little worth…

if i could sit with my mom
for just a few hours
one of the things i would say,
besides i love and miss her
would be
why and how
did you love the broken?
i know we all deserve
to be loved
forgiven
held
listened to,
i know
no one is
perfect
or
without fault…

do you love someone
who is broken?

 in actuality,
aren’t we all
a little broken?

this is the season
of great love-
a time when families gather
people are kinder
and memories
tend to flood us
breaking us wide open
laying before us
the truth
we
are all
in this together…
all human,
which is why
one of my favorite songs
is-

‘Let there be peace on earth
And let it begin with me.
Let there be peace on earth
The peace that was meant to be.
With God as our father
Brothers all are we.
Let me walk with my brother
In perfect harmony.

Let peace begin with me
Let this be the moment now.
With every step i take
Let this be my solemn vow.
To take each moment
And live each moment
With peace eternally.
Let there be peace on earth,
And let it begin with me.’

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