You always pick the worst apples,
she chided him, all bruised!
They are still sweet in some spots—
sweeter even than others without them, he said.
And then she wondered if that’s why he’d picked her.
Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner
Monday, June 11, 2012
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Rediscovered
misplaced jewels—
that little restaurant we found,
and why we loved each other
Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Becoming Clay
Becoming Clay
Stacked upon the shelf,
my emotions, spent and raw.
Dark are they now,
and bland—
I cannot feel anymore.
Whispers of my soul
lay broken in a mess I cannot fix
myself.
If I were to blow a final deep,
aching breath
the shards would fly away like dust.
A single tear slides down my
cheek,
like a match across my heart,
reminding me to feel—
reminding me of what I cannot lose.
It falls to the ground
reaching the dust of my brokenness.
And in the silence,
hands caked with the mud of humanity
reach for me,
His grip unafraid of the cold
reality of what I am.
A low, loving murmur breaks the
dead air,
a voice confident and sure,
"Now I have something to work with."
Copyright 2005 Jennifer Wagner
Monday, June 4, 2012
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