Heart Cracked Not Broken

1. How can I pour the ocean of sorrow into the small cup of my heart?
2. The question for today’s year — so much pain — Ukraine, COVID, my sister’s miscarriage.
3. How or why, to hold the grief wrapping me like ground fog on a summer’s day?
4. I lay down and picture anger-red leaving my body, flowing out my feet — oozing into empathetic air.
5. On every morning run, I feel the spiny specter wisp out my nostrils, then lag further and further behind — smoke from a blown out match.
6. But tomorrow brings new news, and a cup that must be unfilled every day.

MacQueen’s Quinterly 16, 2023