Some broken things, in the right light, still shine. And in a perfect wind, the fragmentary might fly. But mostly we forget this and gather too closely the sharp edges to our chest – seeking solace in those pieces that are left.



a not quite reprise

were I to rest
my breath again
within the ease
of your elbows,
and allow myself
to shine as does
the moon by
the stolen light
of your sun,
I would choose again
to rise tomorrow
and give your
substance back
for though I do not
shine so brightly,
I no longer
feel the lack

© Sarah Whiteley