This was the year
My children stopped believing in magic
The year they realized Santa’s gifts,
The Easter Bunny and even
The trinkets left by garden fairies
Under their trees
The ones they always lose
Were just from me
I think this was also the year
I came unmoored finally
The heavens weren’t going to open
And bring healing from all this pain
Order out of this chaos
I had to do it carefully as I once chose
The perfect coins or costume jewelry
Intentionally spinning meaning
From our fractured story
Weaving bright and dark threads
Into new patterns
Finding promises
Where there was only debris
Learning that magic
Doesn’t need belief in it
To show up uninvited
Just willingness to pick up
One real thing
All this time
Maybe magic
Was only love leaving clues
Showing up as broken things
We never knew we were looking for
Until they found us
Perhaps that is enough
To begin having a kind of faith again
At least enough to stop and gather
Pieces strewn and
Asking to be seen
Held within reach
Even knowing
How easily found things
Are lost
Finding the sacred
In unbelief
