She Doesn't Know What She's Broken

A Psalm of Lament

She runs through the house–against the rules–
Not “crazy wild” but enough vibrations in an old house
To shake the guitar loose 
It falls with a loud kaclung-kaclang
A little crack. . .

She runs off playing happily
Dancing and singing to herself
She doesn’t know what she’s broken

I pick up the guitar and inspect it
The neck is split
It wasn’t a very expensive guitar to begin with
Though it was the best we could afford

It will never play music again
She sings merrily from the other room
Her heart all ajoy
But my heart is broken
It will never play music again

I don’t have the money to buy a new one
Nor the money to repair this one
Nor another one to use
And this one will never play music again

But in the other room she sings
She has no idea what she’s broken
I won’t tell her

I’ve had that guitar since before I met her mother
I’ve had that guitar since before the world made sense
Or made sense again
Or made sense again
The world doesn’t make sense right now

But she sings happily in the other room 
She doesn’t know what she’s broken
I don’t know what she’s broken
So I won’t tell her

It will never make music again but I will
I will because she doesn’t know what she’s broken
And so she keeps singing
And so I’ll keep singing
And one day I’ll have another guitar
And we’ll sing another song
And she still won’t know what she’s broken
And what I know will be mended.