toward the open door
is painful, even for him
so hardened by these years
of moving injured limbs
back and forth, up and down
rhythmic and calculated
for just the degree of discomfort
necessary to urge tenacity
from tired tendons.
Yet this woman with her
knit cap positioned
askew on her balding head gaunt
from weeks of chemotherapy,
eyes sore with disillusionment-
this woman broke his tough veneer
so that he took a step back,
cleared a dry throat,
stammered a greeting.
There are people who break us
like this, grace pierced with pain.
