I’m happy
With what I have,

Because even pain
Can be precious

And life itself
A hard lesson

About easy truths
We can miss.

It’s a journey
Across those lines
Made long
Between short distance
Our eyes will judge
Upon meeting
And bridging gaps
Feeling fear.

It’s facing lies
Without doubts
So faith endures
Despite limits
Only damaged minds
Swear are infinite
Yet knowing
Humanity fades.

It’s disaster
Followed by rain
While God pours hope
Shaping puddles
Meant for feet
Always splashing
Rather than sinking
Far down.

It’s poetry
Sparing each word
Among new friends
Speaking freely
Bounded by fate
Sharing eras
No soul will recall
Given time.

It’s my mom
Making favorite foods
Standing at sinks
In her kitchen
With kids old enough
To not be there
But choosing to stay
Cause they must

Out of love
Revered to a fault,
Like sacrifice
Savored from sickness –

Such ways real work
Had provided
At the cost
Of needing help quick.

It’s marriages
Held within halls
One house enjoyed
Over decades,

Echoing vows
Now eternal
As we realize
Home is right here.

I won’t go
Where you’re not.

I refuse to leave
What is written
Along these walls
Growing yellow
When portraits
Cover empty holes –

Needing paint
Not memories patched,

Learning greed
Is vacancy waiting
Beyond those gates
Seeming better

Abandoning days
We adored.

• J. Pigno