Fragments

by Ayrian Stone, October 2010

 

Broken bread

                Of my fragile life lies strewn.

Fragments littered,

                Scattered across wind-tossed fields.

Birds scratch and peck

                At the crumbs discarded, disregarded.

Heart hurting, aching

                With a loss so great, I mourn.

But less is more

                When others gain. Dear poor

And starving souls

                Clutch with feeble fingers

Small, torn morsels—

                Price of obedience—offered free.

My winter’s scraps

                Nourish now from woundedness

More than my existence fed

                When I was strong and whole.