There is a finite force
For every woman and man
When applied, the tapestry
That declares us rips, our avatar
Unformed to ribbons and dust
That settles over weeks and
Months henceforth; even years,
Our tears make us strong if we
Have courage enough to lift
That chalice to our lips,
Acceptance of its taste
For each a secret, untellable
The hero’s labor to receive in love
The broken child who shivers
Beside the bridge reduced to
Beams and shards, to recognize
Her as myself and take him in
My arms, dear one, you shall
Only be greater, more radiant
And strong in your rebirth.