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I never knew I was so fragile
that I’d be reduced to pieces
like a china cup
at one knock.
Neither did I know
those living close to my heart
were all Kintsugi artists.
They lovingly collected
all the shards, that was my soul
and mended with words of gold.
Now I’m a Kintsugi vase,
broken yet whole.
Posted for Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Kintsugi: Art of mending
sumanar/lekha 