On the Eleventh Anniversary of My Injury

11

Eleven years since shattering…

And I thought on this day

That. Day. 

The curtains of my life would be drawn.

Shut. 

The earthquake of those early years 

Lives on in aftershocks of grief. 

A smell. A thought. A reminder. 

A trigger of the day my most sacred belief

Was cracked. 

The belief in the illusion of safety;

We’re not. 

We teeter on the edge of disaster.

Each breath a hair’s width away from eternity…

The best we have are havens.

People and moments,

Hopes and shared visions,

Memories and laughter,

Glowing bubbles that surround and comfort.

If they burst, when they burst (all life must end)

We cling to the shimmering gold beauty of what saved us. 

The fact of their existence is a wonder;

a miracle; a glimpse of the divine. 

The sight of sunset’s splendor. 

The feel of folded arms surrounding. 

The kiss of cold snowflakes on skin. 

The lyrical sound of laughter. 

What meaning to be found

In life.

In joy.

In disaster.

In triumph.

In pain.

In love.

It is found in these things. 

I thought on this day

That. Day. 

The curtains of my life would be drawn.

Shut. 

They were thrown wide open. 

With each breath, and with each day given,

I cling to this life with a wild abandon that my previous selves would not have understood. 

They would be proud.

I am proud. 

Eleven years ago 

I stared out at the new landscape of my life and assumed it would wither.

But my tears watered the soil of my regrowth

And the sunny warmth of love coaxed out blooms of joy. 

When I look out these windows now, 

My breath catches. 

I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.