The fragility of life will always terrify me.

Sometimes I feel so vulnerable, 

thinking of all the ways my life could spontaneously end –

the accidents

the inflictions

what I inflict.

The fragility of life will always astonish me.

Sometimes I drift away from the facts and 

sometimes they’re too close,

a weight on my chest,

paranoia in my head,

and tears on my cheek.

The fragility of life will always amaze me.

Sometimes I marvel at the way flower petals fold into the perfect cup –

the way the body is made

the balance of health

the likelihood of error.

The fragility of life will always whisper meaning,

“Do what you can, with what you have.”

Sometimes I hate that the fragility cannot be made strong,

sometimes I love that strength can be made in fragility.