broken red

i found him broken on the floor
in pieces thick and red,
then waited for the help to come,
unwrapping all he'd said

my thoughts were quick and panicky,
my confidence, all air --
for no one solves a problem quite
like one whose never there

the lifting and the carrying,
the words of comfort soft,
the whiteness of the anodyne,
the hope i held aloft --

then someone said he'd be okay.
that broke the dams of grief:
there was no understanding this,
for all was disbelief

but what we cannot understand
we may see yet, and clear:
that broken red is everywhere
just waiting to

appear

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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