I glimpsed redemption
while sitting on the wooden floor
of my local hardware store.
Here were rows of useful things
and helpful people to point the way—
hard problems solved with patient wisdom.
Plumbing explained. Plaster illumined.
You can wander the rows of bins,
looking at bits of things that don’t make sense
and you needn’t feel worse for that.
Someone knows what they’re for.
Possibility and hope hover over each spool of rope,
each box of nails.
Hearts lifts with the thought of your life made new—
your failed and broken life fixed up,
and painted over
so that no one need know you were ever broken.
(It's so weird to put a slightly serious poem with this wonderfully odd video, but I like it and hope you do too.)