Although the process of dealing with personal trauma and mental illness can often be an ugly, messy struggle, the process does not make an individual any less valuable. I am reminded of Kitsungi, the ancient Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold. None of us are without our own personal tragedies and uniquely beautiful healing processes. This is for everyone who is struggling right now. Not only is healing possible, but so is feeling whole again. is possible. I hope this poem brings you as much peace as it has brought me.
Healing
There was a girl
who gave
far too much
of herself
to the world
in the name of love.
She would be willing
to carve out her heart.
If only she was asked,
she would give it away.
Much was taken from her,
much to her shame,
but she did not protest.
She merely hid her pain
and painted on a face
she hoped
could pass for a smile
to ward her sadness away.
She bottled it up
and raised a facade
and pretended
it was gone.
It was not long
before she discovered
she could only
cut herself
into so many pieces
before she began
to fall apart.
When the tears started,
a flood came
and washed away
what remained
of the mortar.
It melted the glue
that held her together.
Paper walls dissolved.
The ink began to bleed.
The colors mixed
chaotically.
Her neatly stacked
rows of boxes
that once packed away
her deep dark shame
spilled and flowed out
all the same
as the rest
she put on display.
She looked at the mire
and ceased to cry
because her tears
could not wash
the mud away.
What remained
of the amorphousness
she used to create.
She took the sludge
of all the pain
of all her fears
of her broken defenses
and fallen fortifications
and turned it into clay.
She began to sculpt
a new home for her soul
in place of the prison cells
that held her in before.
Her new abode
was open to the flow
of the air and the light
with no more dark corners
or places to hide.
She did not attempt
to disguise the nature
of what she was made.
The cracks and the streaks
and the scars in the clay
were what gave her away
as human,
and that, she thought,
was beautiful.
