23.  Like Touching Stardust

I read a book the other

Day about a mother

Who loved her daughter

But you’d never really

Know it.

And how human is it,

To watch that buried love

Hobble along each generation,

Falling down, twisting an ankle

And never truly making it

To its final destination.

I’ve heard that word all my life,

Repentance,

And never knew it was worth

More than a million bucks,

A lifelong marriage,

Two and a half kids

And a Caddy in the garage.

It’s like touching stardust

Or looking into the eyes of God,

Or finally breaking bone

And unburying that buried love,

Offering it as a gift even if

Your own hands were never

Even offered it at all.