Broken

What is a plenary life

if not a collection of broken

pieces; lost parts;

the last shreds

of treasured loves;

a splinter of existence;

a last gasp of resistance

the glowing embers of persistence -

the frozen ground of earth gives way

to Spring’s primordial urgings

as the ancient crocus

breaks the soil’s reach

sprouting yellow saffrons;

its profound existence

an honorable presence

of faith in mother’s persistence -

the sultry winds of Summer

break open the skin’s pores

so, to cool life’s passions

with sweet sweat

beading;

running across the brow

in a lush sense

of verdant intense

and fertile presence -

Autumn’s tapestries

fall across mother’s lap

with colors of many splendor

breaking at the season’s

final breath for one last

banquet of earth’s plenty

in a redemptive presence

of death’s essence -

a grey pallor consumes the landscapes

as white blankets

cover the cold ground

and the winds of November

came early

breaking spirit and flesh

alike and away to a long pretense

that life’s persistence might beget an eternal existence.