It's not true what they say.
I won't always be this easy to smash.
Though I straddle a wall between hope
and sorrow, I find a kind of peace
must be above it all,
cracked open by surprise--and life--
a lake within herself, a sun.
The shell is delicate, but it will mend.
Nothing in this garden has not been broken.
Even the promises of Kings.
copyright 2006, Mauled Illusionist, Orchises Press