I can’t say I understand


I can’t say that I understand.

Nor in all honesty would I dare to try.

Yet you boldly face every day with hope.

Hope to understand.

Hope to fit the scattered pieces into something recognizable.

Hope to make it though the piercing day.


You hope.


I can’t say that I understand.

How you boldly face every memory and loss.

You hold your bleeding, pulsating heart in your hands for the world to see.

Not that you ripped it from your chest.

Because No.

It was thrust there by callused hands.

The very hands that stole the breath from the life you gave.


Those wicked hands.


I can’t say I understand.

How you boldly visit that day everyday.

You stand down the hall.

Near the door.

Sitting on the edge of the bed.

You stay there to the end.

And as your soul pours forth and begs for a different way you gather yourself and prepare for the next day.


Day after wicked day.


I can’t say I understand.

The empty words.

The looks given to you by those you know.

Their shallowness proceeds them as a shadow at sundown.

Selfishness giving away their emptiness.

Almost as if you were supposed to fill their voids with the very answers you seek.


Those evasive answers.


I can’t say I understand.

By what strength you give continually.

But you do.

It’s your nature.

You fulfill His word by loving those who take and steal.

And you do so more than any.


You’re real.


I can’t say that I understand life the way you’ve come to.

I don’t know that I could be so bold.

The path you’ve walked few would dare and many would quite.

You have fought fiercely.

Even for your next breath which is more than most would do.


You’ve fought.


I can’t say I understand.

I try.


Adam Houle


1/3/13- To Jaime and Fred- Survivors of a murdered child-Elizabeth-The Rose. I hope for healing daily.


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