What the Night Is For
Oh, my heart,
if we could cease working
on our sorrow
like we were trying
to stitch together
shattered glass.This breaking
is not for fixing,
as though,
if we could just find
the fitting tool,
everything would tumble
into its place,
joined and whole.Perhaps it is time
to let the shards lie
where they have
Fallen.Perhaps it is time
to let ourselves
sit and weep
over them.And then perhaps
we scatter them—
into the soil,
into the sky,
it does not matter
Where.Let them take
their place.
Let them shimmer
like a constellation
in all that darkness—sky-dark, soil-dark,
at home in that strange
and radiant solace
that knows
what the night
is for—how it takes
the broken things
and sets them
shining
to light our way
from here.Jan Richardson
