Dust and Glue

I wish I knew 
true love
of friendship 
early on.
I wish it didn’t exist
as missing
photos in 
the album,
having been
removed
from the glue
after each exposure 
of being 
used,
or that one
that left me
to this day
confused.
My album
became less 
and less
full;
lighter became
the feeling
I knew, 
chambers of the heart
renovated rooms,
but I held fast
to faith,
and God inside
filled each 
vacant space.
I kept 
the others
at arm’s length,
guard up,
bowed face,
casually brushing 
invitations 
away,
though introversion
was also at
play,
having created
my very sacred 
space,
but in these weeks 
when weak
became my shame,
and I had to
search extra hard
to find
the blessing
takeaway,
it was friends
who came to save
the day,
who found
and mended
and returned
my cape,
who lifted me back
with hugs
to strength. 
Okay, Lord. 
In this broken state,
I give you 
thanks. 
Full is the feeling 
when the heart
reaches
dam break,
when love
fills in 
in all of its 
sizes and shapes,
and the dust dances
off those old
blank pages.