Broken
Life is hard.
We live in broken times.
Too often I feel broken too.
I tell myself it's okay,
I'll get through this.
Others have it much worse,
but it's still hard.
Silently, picking up the pieces,
smiling with a brave face,
I think my pain is as valid as yours,
but I don't really believe it.
I come from a line of women,
who wore a brave face
and kept their private pain private,
so private you wouldn't know it existed at all.
My mother liked doing jigsaw puzzles.
She was good at it.
Maybe it was a way to convince herself
that her broken pieces could be put together
if she puzzled over them long enough.
I don't think she ever really figured that out.
She wasn't able to put her own puzzle together,
but she knew enough to hold her loved ones tight
when they were falling apart.
She took the broken pieces into her arms;
and enveloped in her unfailing embrace
until the pain of being broken eased,
her love made the world right again.

~Elise Skidmore ©2025
That is beautiful.
Thank you so much, Ruth.
How lovely!
Thank you, Kathi.
That’s what good mothers do.
Thank you, Linda. I think you’re right. Good mothers try their best, even when they know all they can do is hold you close.
Wonderfully and warmly told reflections on tragedy. Broken indeed.
Thank you, Alan.
Beautiful, and sad. ❤️🩹
Thank you so much, Rosemary.