poems about possibilities

Tell me
that weeping
in your heart
is only stones
being thrown
into water
that the smashing
is how you build things
the chaotic hours
of early morning
and never arriving
a voice saying ‘walk it off’
every state of grace
fell hard before it arrived
cracked abodes
city mission under bruised light
crazy or careless
take your pick
a way out
of the bramble
a ticket home
it ain’t the end of the world
it’s just how possibility looks
bruised around the edge
and pulsing with a light
you can’t see.