#nothiding

When you break glass,

it’s over in a flash, the spiteful pieces scatter as far as they can.

The noise is as sharp as the outcome.

Any brief mourning moment for the object transmutes in seconds into fear.

Fear of harm.

Fear of the hidden pieces that lurk beyond the broom and brush,

to bite you at a future time.

Pottery, it hits the ground with a heavy sound, like a body falling.

The shards lie close and you can pick them up without fear.

Weighing each one in your hand as you look in disbelief,

in sorrow.

(Glass is perfect and otherworldly, it can return to its original form.)

This felt the makers hand, and now you have broken it.

Can it be repaired?

The gathering begins.

The mourning starts, the memories …

Kintsugi?

Hearts.

Hearts break silently, the sounds come later.

Kintsugi is a lie.

30/3/22