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

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Rachel Loughlin
Rachel is a graphic designer and writer making a difference in Richmond, Virginia. Rachel is dedicated to helping others tell their stories because, "finding the courage to tell a story, can change the ending." Lately she has been telling the story of Richmond's break with its past through her poetry.