Blurred And Broken

Heart broken but healing

Brain broken from confusion

Thoughts broken from lies

Memories broken from the revelations

Hours broken up into minutes of deep breaths

But the minutes are torn apart to seconds

Each one feels like they don’t matter until that last second of life arrives

A job broken to waste

Of time, reflection, of identity or obligation

The time there is broken up by salary or pay

The good old dollar squeezes every ounce of energy they can

Your position breaks you like your bank account does

Sometimes choosing which bill to pay while breaking into emotion

When you pay one and not the other it feels like your wallet is having an affair

Your money runs off to healthcare that does not care about you

It plays with loans and a mortgage that only have one night stands for almost all of it to disappear

The oil and gas in your car chuckles while it drags you to work and carries you home

Defeated, at a loss, depleted.

Your eviction notice is waving at you from the corner of the room

The refrigerator's stomach is growling while holding the freezer

Who was having a brain freeze while its heart remains as cold as the government

The TV is watching the reality of the gloom, doom, and not enough room for the despair

Right across from it you see the love seat who hasn’t felt a heartbeat in months

Your bosses broken ego would rather break you than their vacation plans

Eyes are now broken

Leaking from the heart ache. Breaking of promises and even opportunity.

Broken vision because we as a nation were prescribed the wrong lenses

Stress broke apart a marriage, relationship, families and ones own identity

I think one reason so many feel tricked, abandoned and not listened to is because the Statue of liberty was holding the flame as a warning, watching slavery come back to fashion, watching few people have money for generations, amused with how the ones with old money, well, like I said. This country is white washing the books, congress, and the mouths of this land but our hyperopia, hope and history that was white washed or blurred out ended up breaking our humanity.

Sometimes a house has to fall apart. Sometimes the heart of the home needs to be broken for you to fix. This is a time where the welcome mat is not out but it’s because it’s under construction. Some are trying to sell us out and rebrand us. We have a real estate agent who is focusing on one house while the rest of the subdivision is falling apart. Being broke does not mean you can’t start again.

That's the thing about broken things.

They tell the truth.

A broken heart tells you what mattered.

A broken promise tells you who didn't.

A broken system tells you what it was built to do.

A broken idea tells you what needs to be learned.

Now that the cracks are showing,

Nobody gets to say they didn't see them.

The question isn't whether we're broken.

The question is:

What are we going to build from the pieces?