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What a great weekend I had. Nothing like spending precious time with adored wonderful children who laugh when they are happy and cry when they are upset. Simple and real. Sometimes I wonder how we adults lose that simplcity along the way.

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It's been too long since I've written poetry. I love poetry. I used to write prolifically, sometimes two or more poems a week, but one day a bit more than a year ago, I just stopped. I know why.

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I wrote this poem on Nerissa Nields' couch one Monday night when I was still lost and reeling and even so, wishing, wanting to allow for something good.

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It's much easier here in the blogs and for most of us to share and write optimistically; harder to talk about what's wrong. I think this is actually an optimistic poem, but lest anyone think, despite my many blessings, that I'm coasting along with a heart with no cracks in it: nope. Not me.

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If you've been hurt, please accept this poem as a rest stop along the way. I think some good comes from hearts that break. I'm not as sure as I used to be, but I'm still pretty sure.

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If a heart can break in two

Can it break in fours

And eights

And sixteens and thirty twos?

And if it can break into that many pieces

All small enough to fit in the fold of my hand

Can I shake those pieces up,

Shake them in a martini tumbler

Or hand them to the crappier at Foxwoods,

Ask her to toss them long and hard;

Watch them tumble all over the surface that is me

Spilling all that unused love into welcomed waiting corners

Like warm raindrops in the August sun.

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Love

kj