My sister recently experienced the pain of a miscarriage. It happened while in Mexico several destructive earthquakes shook the foundation of people’s lives. This is for her.

for Monica

in the trembling, the plates made new space
that wasn’t there before.
this movement, unexpected and harsh
left the living cradling in shock and then,
weeping in sorrow.
dreams and plans had once stood brick by brick
where the rubble heaps are large. branches that reached high sit broken below, in places they don’t belong.
and although the sun continues to rise, time stands painfully still.

but, the plates made new space
that wasn’t there before.
and amidst the chaos and panic, a small glimmer emerges.
sun beam and moonshine rests upon once darkened corners.
looking up, the sky seems to stretch long and wide.

in the absence, presence is elevated. 
a word, a touch, a smile takes on larger meaning.
the laughter of a child is a sound of hope.
kindness of strangers helps heal.
loss breaks us open and in that there is air, there is light.
yes, the vacuum feels brutally empty still, but some days the message comes in clearly: “create again.”

and so with courage, with humble conviction,
we blow away the dust to forget, pick up the pieces to remember,
and do just that.


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