Thrown to the edge of the grave and back
skin and spirit torn to shreds
blood, nerves, tendons
cling to bones half-crushed, shivering
not a thought paid to how the winged ones fly.
desperate for healing
yet closer than ever to becoming whole
in their brokenness.
I haven’t endured (nor do I ever want to, let me be clear) pain anywhere near so many others have in their short or too-soon-extinguished lives. But, like anybody, I know a little bit about it. When it creeps up, I think about those who have survived unthinkable suffering. My focus immediately turns from my damn-near perfect life (in comparison) to those who are trapped in a war or some such calamitous existence.
The other day, I received two letters from a new woman I sponsor through a wonderful program run by Women for Women International. One letter is hand-written in Albanian; the other type-written in English. She’s from Kosovo, a place where ethnic cleansing, among other heinous crimes, took place in the 1990s. She asks about my family. She tells me that she’s learning about women’s rights and is enrolled in business courses. She closes her letter by wishing me good health.
These letters, though not a heart-pain-deep revelation, inspire me. They inspire me because they are a tangible proof that worlds apart can connect in a meaningful way. They inspire me because I’m reminded that actions don’t need to be big to have an effect. They inspire me because through these letters, our sponsor and recipient roles are equalized: she receives support, I receive some encouragement that we are each other’s hope. They inspire me because that hope found in brokenness is humbling.
What gives you hope these days?
for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub