I was watering in the backyard
by the standing Buddha with extended hand,
a gesture of lovingkindness
if there ever was one,

and I picked up the hollow resin “rock”
that says peace on a stump in the ivy,
and it cracked in my hands,
the bottom falling out, as it so often does,
even in a peaceful moment.

And, hose in hand, I watered the fractured
thing, perhaps with some faint hope
that it might regrow. But then I
saw the sculpture of open hands
holding a great heart of a rock

sitting atop the stepping stone
that reads Seek Peace and Pursue It,
and I said aloud,
“Even when it looks broken.”

And I kept watering, as one does,
when it is it the only thing—
perhaps the best thing—
we can do.