One Day at a Time

And the distance
from here to
finding the things that
can still be saved
is us, and to realize
that your impossible thing
and my impossible thing
are one and the same
is the first step on
the road that stretches
between the bruised
resilience of today and
a redemption worth aspiring to.

For the first time
I submit myself
to a red handed fear
that some ruins
are unrecoverable
and some shoes
will never fit,
that if the future
were really infinite
it still has walls and
running into walls
is as much
a part of life as
sex and
going to church and
learning to cross the street.
And we seek a love
that may not be
practically sustainable.
For the first time
being too broken to ever
be good enough again
is a staggeringly real
possibility,
and our own tendencies
to destruction
pose the biggest threat to
the kind of relationship
we’d pay any price for.

But let us slow down.
Turning cynical is the
easiest thing
to let our hearts
disappear into,
but the raging macrocosm
that has stacked all the odds
against us
has nonetheless granted us
a starting point:

we are here.