If my embrace could stop your bleed,

or smoothing brow make pain recede,

my love would ride, a great white steed,

to mend your bleeding heart.

But my heart bleeds, my soul is bent,

my broken parts sing like lament,

so humbly, trembling, I present

my fragile, shattered part.

If we who, fractured though we are,

combine our fragments,  name our scars,

embrace the cracks in ruptured jars,

could we be living art?

*

The snowstorm today made driving (and photography) a bit of a challenge.   So – how about some colour from last year instead??  🙂  “…treasures in jars of clay…”