Toast No. 1

Poem No. 52

Some days all we have is grit.

Some days we get that one email, that phone call, that letter or bill. We get the rejection, the diagnosis, the bad news, or the total, unexpected silence. And on such days we may not have much left, beyond a raw determination to keep moving forward.

As I age, I value more and more the virtue of simple grit.

A few weeks ago I shared one of the poems in my ‘Toast’ series, which celebrates oft un-celebrated things. Today I thought I’d share another poem from that series, which raises a glass to anyone determined to keep building things, even when it feels like the world is crumbling around them:

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Here's to all the broken things,
the collapsed arches
and half-formed dreams,

here's to all that might have been,
the wish-we-woulds
and remember-whens,

here's to we who still hold fast,
and build new worlds
from shattered glass,

and here's to every cracked façade,
to empty temples
awaiting gods.

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Thanks for reading,
~ A

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