A Broken Pot’s Lament
I have not recovered every cracked shard:
some sheered their splinters of pain
that disappeared only to be invisible
to the naked eye until a sudden shaft
of memory recalled them again,
and released a bead of blood
upon their pricked wounds.
To remind me I am not whole and
I do not display my scars
in any golden repair;
no gilded, careful lacquer
of a flawed love.
I do not wear my damage with pride
or exhibit any art in my imperfect seams.
Image of kintsugi from wikimedia commons.