In January
snow will cover every mess,
the leaves we didn't rake,
the broken bottles
in the yard,
the mangled doll
the dog dragged out.
This is the way
I once imagined God
might be,
tossing a blanket of forgiveness,
making magically,
everything clean
with one wide gesture.
I know better now.
What has been wrecked
or damaged
keeps on crumbling,
even out of sight,
waiting to surface,
seeking justice or repair...
the bruised heart
hidden by the smile,
the cat
the snowplow didn't see,
the childhood memory,
like a knife
caught in the ice
waiting to thaw.
-- Deb Cooper