In the broken place
where we live,
hope can be found
in the cracks

If a dandelion
can push herself
up from the earth

though a sliver of light
in cement
and be called a weed

—or a flower
by those who see more
surely, we too can bloom

in our brokenness
where we live
and see more

Posted by kind permission of the poet.
Photo by Sam Derkach