a mosaic from the pieces of our shattered lives
speaks to the truth that something great survives;
we’ll take the different bruising blues
and make them into deeper ocean hues;
and we can make the vicious, angry red
into warm sheets to cover our safe bed
while memory’s lonely, screaming, black sights
can be the endless sky of our entangled nights
in which the frightening burning phosphor white
becomes our glowing ever-present moonlight
by which we’ll show the watching world that pain
can end, and the broken can become whole again

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