Cracks

The memory of an injury

lives on for eternity

in the kinaesthetic history

of the body.

The impact of a fall

on instant recall.

A trauma we haul

through all the silt and salinity

of an immortal soul.

The terror of cracks

on the dusky tracks

and rattily brittle slats

bridging lonely cul-de-sacs

in ghosts towns of our pain.

Cracks in our agility.

Our ability to navigate graciously

the treacherous territory

of our vulnerability.

Cracks in our sanity.

Neural pathways tethered inaccurately,

with worn out familial tools and primitive masonry,

weathered by lifetimes of insecurity.

Cracks in our tenacity.

The solidity of our agency

to hold steadfastly to honesty

amidst the ever changing topography

of our collective reality.

And deepest of all,

the cracks in our destiny,

traps laid intricately

by an acrimonious serendipity

loyal to some unfathomable divinity.

Cracks that stole from me

the cartography of security,

the vocabulary of certainty,

leading me hesitantly

and unceremoniously

to the sharp edges

and gnarly faces

of my deepest truth.