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.