Life is fragile.

I stroke the downy cheek of my newborn son,

and press him close to my heart.

Wonder suffuses me, for

life is fragile.

…

Life is brittle.

I watch the black clumps of Kansas soil

falling into my grandma’s grave.

Sadness consumes me, for

life is brittle.

…

Life is brief.

I reach under the table for my husband’s

hand, we smile companionably.

Gratefulness fills me, though

life is brief.

…

Oh, cherish your time! For life

is so fragile,

so brittle,

so brief.

——————–

I wrote this poem after my grandma died in 2007. Many more special people have died since then, and also many special people have lived. I hold my loved ones close in my heart, not in fear, but in knowing that they are truly a gift.