Broken ... and Mended Again

Broken

Our beautiful life had shattered.
Broken pieces lay around me like silent
reminders of what had been.
Slivers of love and security lay in
one corner, while bits of companionship
and mirth had fallen to the side.
So much of value was irretrievably lost.
I stared at the mess, daunted by
the dreadful destruction of my life.
Dare I pick up the pieces? Dare I try
to put them back together again?
Broken fragments glittered in the sunlight,
as if mocking my loss.
Could the glue of perseverance and hope
hold the fragile pieces together?
Was it possible for life to continue as it had before?

..... And Mended Again

Hope glimmered at the edges of my mind.
Maybe, just maybe, some of the broken fragments
could be pieced together again.
They might form some semblance of a whole.
Not as they had been before. No.
But, nonetheless, something good and useful.
I measured the damage, checked out the ruin,
and pulled out my glue gun.
A dash of faith here, a dollop of good-cheer there,
a bit of fortitude spread all around, and voila!
A new existence had been created.
Endurance had triumphed over emptiness, and
a whole had blossomed from the broken pieces.
Cracks still remained, and sometimes the
glue pulled apart at the edges. But, even so,
victory had been won, and life was good once again.

The photo I've included with this poem was one I took in New Bern, NC. The butterflies signify a changed life.