Fault Lines

Trembling, fault lines run through 
everything. You don't see them, but
you know they're there. A yellow chorus 
of sunflowers shouts from the hills; 
the smell of woodsmoke pulls apart 
the curtains. Your heart lies inside a pile 
of bedclothes when it's hard to get up 
and walk outside again into the world. 
It regards the quiet industry of a spider 
and marvels at how surely it sends  
forth filament after filament into 
empty space. How do you learn 
to be brave like that, learn to trust 
that something could carry you?