Break me.



I’m broken.

Now what?

Discard me?

I am food for the soil.

If I am bone,

I can still be set,

even when shattered.

If I am wood,

then a branch becomes a stick,

which can be used to make a tool.

Break the stick,

the twig can be burned for fuel.

Grind the twig down,

and the sawdust can be used

still as fuel,

or spread out on the barn floor.

Still useful.

Feel my arm.

Feel that there?

That’s from breaking my arm

when I was young.

Feel my heart.

Feel it beating?

That’s me,

still alive

after so many times

I thought my heart

would never heal.

See my eyes.

The color there?

It’s still bright,

despite the wounds

the world would afflict me with.


I admit to inflicting a few myself,

I still have the scars.

I’m not here to make excuses.

I’m just trying to show you

that even broken,

we still serve a purpose.

And we don’t stay broken




HG – 2022

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