Time slows as the vase
falls, almost as if floating like a feather.
--She works hard, you know.
It is tough to keep it all together.
But gravity, it happens.
The vase hits tile hard and explodes, like
fireworks, bombs, water balloons.
--Maybe she thought it would be easier, you know.
That the reminders wouldn't always be there.
The broom is headed for the scattered glass, the remains
of what once was.
--Wait, wait, but don't they see the way the sunlight hits
the shards of glass?
The light dances across the broken edges and
she is beginning to see the beauty in it all.
--It's quite exquisite, you know.
Leave it be and marvel.
The broom is forgotten.
--I like it better this way,
not so perfect, sterile, smooth.
It's rough and raw and real.
--Easy...it is never really better, you know.
This, this, this is good.