Life, threw me on the floor.
It broke me into pieces.
I jumped back up.
I put myself together,
and continued on my way.
Like nothing had ever happened.
I collapsed in on myself.
Like a tunnel, dug in dry sand.
The pieces just wouldn't stick.
I tried the glue.
Once again I rose too fast
Once again I fell.
"I can't do this,""It's a mess."
"Why did I ever think I could."
I left my pieces in a sticky, messy heap.
I took my time, the glue began to dry.
The pieces started to stick.
Each time they stayed in place a little longer.
I still fell apart,
a little less each time.
With patience and kindness and love.
I am now resurrected.
The same, yet different.
No longer pretending I'm indestructible.
My scars, painted gold.
Beautiful inside and out,
Glisten.
*What began as testing out some glue for a workshop became a metaphor for life.
Beautiful poem and wonderful metaphor! The thought of accepting that you are not indestructible resonated with me and it reminded me of a quote from Pema Chödron: "We think that the point is to pass the test or to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart."