Broken, Some End in Light

Rearview mirror reflects car askew:
it’s balance off, like it’s had a few
too many, or not enough.
Life is hard; I say it’s too damn rough:
A skid, a ditch, a siren in the night:
Some end in a flash of broken light.

My family tree strains
with secrets, addiction, inflicted pains.
Pride, integrity, sense of place
also comprise my early base.
Some stayed, others fled.
Most survived, a few bled.
Some begin in broken light.

At encroaching night I aim my dismissal.
Being weary, who’s to say this’ll
come back to brilliance leaking?
This starfield gash is seeking
true colors, not faded.
It’s hard to live in this world not jaded.
Somewhat broken ends in light.

Tell me, what else ends in light?
Tunnel death stroll filled with white.
Though not all
will hear that radiant call:
dark deeds tainting terminal rasp.
Stubborn digits clench, then grasp,
dragging down, not up to flight.
Broken, only some end in light.

Lesson of patient wisdom
the whole heart surround,
no fissure or fracture yet found.
Then the loss, the pain, the break:
Dharma flows in to make
a shattered life sharp, then bright.
Broken, some end in light.


(cc) Karen G. Johnston