Broken
Was there ever a moment when I wasn’t broken?
Do my fractures have an origin, or was I conceived shattered, destined to be in pieces before I took a breath?
I look back, try to retrace the movements that led me to where I am, and I cannot find a moment when these cracks didnt exist, no time when I was ever whole.
But does how it began matter, really?
My task is the same regardless - to try and take the shards of self and see if I can carefully work them back together.
And then maybe, just maybe, when I’m done I’ll be like a stained glass window - adding beauty to the light that shines through me.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s already happening now.
Wouldn’t that be the coolest thing?
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This story is 140 words long.
Comments
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Lil Jaci looks at the story online by the much better author than she will ever be. Puts down her cola and sits there thinking.
"Am I broken as well?"
you're a better author than you give yourself credit for
As for being broken, aren't we all a little broken?
Broken
How many here can truly write this thought provoking poem.
May Your Light Forever Shine
hmmm
Sounds like you've been reading my poem Shattered.
I hope you take this as friendly advice, because that is how it is meant to be...
as long as you try to live in the past and understand the hurts and pain of years gone by, you will always be a slave to it. I think you deserve to live in the here and now and be the person you are, where you are free from those who have tried to hurt you so. I know it is difficult, I have had trouble with it myself, but it is not impossible.
Katie Leone (Katie-Leone.com)
Writing is what you do when you put pen to paper, being an author is what you do when you bring words to life
getting better at leaving the past behind.
In the end, the only thing I want to take with me is the lessons I learn, and use that to help those who are like me.
Hugs.
Brilliant Insight,
Dorothy, I think in just a few words, you have summed up the human condition. Some face their brokenness because they become in touch with themselves and there it is. For some it is pain or fear that brings awareness. Some can never face their own incompleteness and fragmentation. Some of them wither and die others strike out and create more brokenness around them. We who confront our terrible gift of brokenness struggle our whole lives towards healing and wholeness, sometimes in fear or despair, sometimes in triumph and joy.
Perhaps we are like the trees. That beautiful old oak has been battered and bent and broken again and again. It is certainly not the tree that lay hidden in the acorn so many years ago and yet it is beautiful, as beautiful as you...or I or all of our brothers and sisters here.
The gift for us as for the oak is the struggle and our beauty shines through the scars where we have healed brokenness. Yes, just like a stained glass piece.
Thank you for the insight, my sister.
Joani
thanks, Joani
I'm glad you enjoyed this piece, and thanks for the comment.
Stained glass window
I like the analogy,
Each piece put through fire, molten instead of burned, and transformed into something beautiful.
Assembled through the alchemy of love into a beautiful mosaic.
Finally, shared freely so others may see the richness and strength of the human soul.
Love and Light,
Cassie Ellen
I'm glad you liked it Cassie
And thanks so much for the comment.
Broken...
How can you call a life broken if it was never whole to begin with?
Maybe its more like a puzzle, an enigmatic reflection in shattered mirrors... A thousand reflections of your soul, every one different, every one jagged...
Every one wounded, but not even truly realizing it.
Maybe it up to us to fit the jagged edges of our souls together?
Maybe, however much it hurts, that is what life is all about?
Fitting the jagged edges of broken souls together, accepting the pain...
And healing.
healing
I'm slowly healing myself. Its a life-time process, but each little step forward is a victory.
Dear Dottie,
Excellent poem, I really liked it. It compresses (an aspect of?) your life in a very few words, but with great meaning.
Yes, it doesn't matter! Yes, to putting yourself together the way You want. Yes, it's happening now and this poem is evidence!
A stained glass window and its beauty! That's such a cool, insightful metaphor.
Thanks very, very much, Dorothy!
Hugs and Bright Blessings,
Renee
thanks, Renee
I'm really glad you liked this.