how to mend broken things
I once knew a man
whose profession it was to mend
precious objects, broken
intentionally or unintentionally.
he devised
all manner of concoctions:
epoxies, resins, glues,
to conceal from the eye
the rifts, the fissures, the cracks.
how we mend broken things
is not a recipe.
it is an art,
much like divining
water coursing unseen beneath the surface, your wedding ring, a stone someone touched recently, your reading glasses.
how we mend broken things
must come with the profound recognition
that not all things
can be
mended.
it depends on the material: your great-grandmother's crystal, a favorite porcelain tea pot, an ancient tree, a beloved home torn from its roots by a hurricane
flesh
a heart.
some things cannot ever be mended
and while you may be tempted to reach for the glue, sometimes the only way
to mend certain things, is to leave something else broken
fashion the shards into an expression of the pain of loss
make something beautiful
from the fragments
of the destroyed world.
