So cute,

cuddly,

black and white -

who could resist that

waddling walk or those

flightlessly flapping wings

Me. I could.

They scare me.

Don't show me

baby penguin videos,

penguin documentaries,

or that picture of the widowed penguins

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who always watch the sunset

together.

Because

to me, penguins

have everything

I can't have.

I'd do anything

(almost)

to go where cuddliness

is valued -

where some cute fella

would give me a pebble

to be my always.

I would even live in the freezing cold.

I would even... wear black.

(Okay, maybe that's taking it too far.)

Give me the cartoon penguins that

slap each other and

cause explosions and

eat junk food -

and make my monster seem

less scary.

Because it's not the happy endings

that scare me - it's that

it's not the end.

What happens when

always-pebble-guy leaves

on a fishing trip and never quite

makes it home?

What happens when

our precious-baby-egg

freezes on the ice?

What happens when

my pieced-together-heart

breaks all over again?

Penguins remind me of

the day creation Fell -

Fell and broke - that

all creation groans

in the brokenness.

Broken means

not quite together - even when

side by side.

Penguins are scary

because they seem perfect, but

they're not...

and just like me,

they wait for the day when

we can reach out and

truly hold.