Not every rip
that rips – – –
is meant to be mended.

Nor all tears stitched
back up . . .
into perfect

Sometimes it’s okay
to let those ragged
ends fly

-flapping in the breeze
with clearer space

To breathe.

The holes we hold
in the heart of these times,
are not intended
to be resewn
into the same shape
from where they came:

They are our means
of expansion.

For how will we
ever become bigger
if we don’t let ourselves
be torn?

And how will we
learn to be more

If we don’t let our rips
allow room
for new light.