Falling.

Yesterday a friend fell down and broke his wrist.
The sound of the fall. The sound in his voice and the sound of silence thick from everybodys grief for our friend and releif that it wasn't us.
Yesterday I didn't fall.
I think that I had my fare share of broken bones and broken hearts but still it hits me every single time. It hits me like a fist right in the middle of my chest and it's hard to breath.
The vision of a broken bone is not unlike the vison of a broken heart. The crooked and twisted skeleton under the skin, or the crooked and twisted pain in someones eyes.
Many, many times when my heart or my spirit has broken I wished for a broken bone to replace the brokeness with. Something visual, something that others can see and pity me for.
Yesterday I didn't fall.

The sound of falling is always followed by silence. And then the breathing starts again.