beauty in broken things

we cover our cracks
with feeble cement
and put on a face
we imagine will work
and everyone plays the same game
ashamed of being broken

will no one show me their true face?

the japanese have an art
that repairs their cracked bowls with gold
seeing beauty in broken things

why hide what gives us our uniqueness?
the tree grows majestically
and you cannot tell what is wound
and what is beauty
it doesn’t hang its branches in shame


only us, we who are blighted by shame and guilt
who, despite centuries of learning,
still turn away from our pain and suffering
in the vain hope it will disappear
sadly that turning away itself
gives it a dark power
that manifests in the world
in the ways we all see…

i am not the harbinger of doom my friend
but i did not come here to play around
our ways are foolish
and we have learned little from
the wisdom that has preceded us
and still we scrabble around in the dark
ruled over by petty despots
and ego fueled narcissists
who are the manifestation
of our collective shadow

only a great evolution of the soul
will change this world
and i am for that

i am unafraid of my cracks and wounds
i healed them with the gold
that gave them life
and they became a part of me
that i wear with dignity and humble pride
of a life felt fully

nothing is ever really broken
just denied and turned away from.


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