Mending

NaNoPoMo Day 29

Day Twenty-Nine: Mending

4.29.26

There’s a shattered mirror on the floor

I can see a thousand of me staring

Wide-eyed, wondering

How a scar can shine like a smile

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Last month was a whirlwind

The March to my Jo, and oftentimes

I wonder if it was all just vanity, vanity

Some much ado about nothing

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And I stand at the tombstone

Of a seven year old girl, and wonder at

How small my troubles are

In the grand story of the world

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There’s children playing in the field

Beside the graveyard, and I wonder at

How small they are

Against the painted blue sky, an eternity

With frail mortals dancing in its center stage

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I see a white dandelion swaying against the grass

Pressed close against a gray grave-marker

Then the wind passes over it, and it is gone

And its place knows it no more

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Is there something beautiful in such frailty?

Can’t you feel the Creator cupping this world

In His hands, gently, gently

As He whispers our stories into being?

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Maybe my fissures are shallower than most

But sometimes the smaller wounds hurt most

Sunshine and prayers serve as a salve

Singing and eating and laughing with friends

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Are these but vanities, too?

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Ah, but the cracks are slowly mending

And the scars they leave behind are more beautiful

Than the gleam of a thousand shattered mirrors

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photograph ©ElisabethBiggs2026