PICK UP THE PIECES

We all have our ways of coping in our broken world.

I pick up the pieces.

Look closely.
Every broken bit has a beauty all its own
An interesting shape
A gleam of glaze
Worn places from a long life
Creating a surprising wink as the sun passes.

A smashed plate, victim of a bad day
Reappears, rearranged, in a landscape
Now part of a mountain range
Reborn into majesty.

A car window lies shattered.
Heart heavy at someone’s sorrow
I pick up the pieces
Salvage the shards
Carry them gently home
Transform an ugly act into something sublime.

Banged-up bolts from a tin toolbox,
Blooming in blue/green patina
Scuffed leather buttons lovingly saved in a jelly jar
These too shall have a resurrection
In a celebration of the old and the scarred.

Look closely.
Have reverence for rust
Admire the fine lines in the crazed china cup
Rescue the ruined
Frame the fractured.

Pick up the pieces.               Barbara Svoboda