A being that feels brittle
As if it could wither away
Like chipped paint, it is crumbling
And cracking today.
A small piece here
A large one there
It is chipping, but I am whole
I can heal its decay.
I can go to the store
I can purchase sandpaper and paint
I can break the wound down
And soothe it today.
I can clean it and prep
Get it ready for its new coat
I can apply that fresh paint
Let it dry for the day.
As time then goes on
Others may not see it, visibly
Its chipped nature may be forgotten
As I proceed on my way.
I will know the history
What once was there
What had been.
That story carried with me
As my life, I continue to live.
Perhaps our stories are full of examples
Situations such as this
Beings, once broken.
Then healed and carrying inside the stories of our days.
Perhaps that is what makes us human
Experiences and feelings that make up our whole
To stand firm in our foundation
To believe we can heal our decay.
