this day was lost

I'm just trying to connect the dots

I feel like I'm waiting for something
that isn't even there
and too many of my thoughts are dead-ends.

because, I don't want to think
but I'm stuck
on remembering
a little girl whose clothes are dirty and whose hands are dirtier,
and she wouldn't meet my eyes because her pride is stained darker than them both.
The bruises across her back hurt
but nothing like the welts on her innocence, so
she paces the house that is her cage with her head down and her eyes hanging even lower

and SHE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ME

but my heart won't let me forget

There's a little boy who didn't walk at all
he just cried, on the floor with his back pressed against the wall like it would save him, like that wall was his father and nothing would separate them again.
because he is only 9 and Seventy is too many years of waiting to hug his Papi again.

And i couldn't even tell him I Care.

so I know its been said before, but

you've hurt too many people

and maybe your name is Death                                            but maybe that doesn't matter.

you've been known as Divorce, and She called you Abuse,

I know too many people who think you're a mirror telling them lies, 

but

we've all got a common problem.

our problem is you, its the fact that

YOU WALK LIKE YOU LIVE HERE

And you don't. You shouldn't.

We never let you in, we never gave you permission, we never gave you anything

let alone our souls.

and for some reason you exist

YOU ARE TRAGEDY

and pain and fear and hatred

the tragedy of people with hearts so Weighted down they're leaving footprints deeper than their souls

and i hate the fact that blaming her too-many-tears-to-cry on you changes nothing

so i guess i'm just asking
questions.
too many.

because Somehow the sky is still lovely
and my best friend still exists
but so do the heavy hearts.

And laughter is real,
just like saxophones and snowflakes

and somehow,

SHE GOT A HAPPY ENDING.

maybe this is just me
thinking things out
thinking about how things aren't perfect and they never will be
but
that little boy has a friend who loves him, and
that little girl learned how to draw.
and maybe we've got it better than we think because
I know a widow who started taking walks and
a Shell who picked up a pen,
it may suck but
orphans find God all the time
the depressed found a piano and lemonade
& the broken tend to pick up books

its not easy but survival isn't the issue
it never was
we're just looking for

hope.