Kintsugi

Putting broken pieces back together

"Kintsugi" *

She looked at the broken pieces 

of the precious teapot, 

a legacy from her ancestors,

from ten generations back. 

And she looked at her trembling child,

standing contrite, with her head down,

waiting for an inevitability,

already on the brink of tears.

Come, she told the child, 

help me with the pieces,

there are just ten of these, 

let's see if there's a future for them. 

She brought out the stickum,

she brought out the gold dust,

a few drops of water,

and a churning to make it soft.

Hold this piece here, my love,

let's get the joining right,

we put the gold in the cracks,

but it's important to have it alongside. 

There you are, my love,

we have the perfect imperfection, 

the legacy is of something precious,

but you've now made it beyond price. 

The child's face was full of wonder,

as she asked in a tone which trembled, 

it's so beautiful, o mother, 

but you didn't scold me at all?

She wrapped the little one in an embrace,

and said you're more precious than these,

I couldn't risk my anger to break you,

for I don't have the adhesive to join you back again.. 

'*' Kintsugi is the Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold — built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art.

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Musings

This poem starts with the idea of kintsugi which is the Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold.  It is built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, we can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art.

And for most of its length, the poem lingers on how perfection does not have monopoly rights towards beauty.

But can everything broken be repaired? There lies the conundrum - it all depends on you. A fallen autumn leaf WILL crumble, but a seed which falls down can - and will - bring forth something new and life-affirming.

Beyond the fact of an imperfection, of being imperfect, is the truth of what we do with that imperfection. We could build with it, around it, on it. Or we could simply sink into it - and dissolve.

The choice, like so many things in life, is ours.

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Prompt

Is there anything in your life which lies broken - an object which you loved, a thread of a beautiful routine, a relationship you cared for immensely?

Write to that object, routine, person, and talk about what you loved about them - and what you miss of them now.

Maybe you will never get that same feeling back, one way or the other, but your words might suture open wounds.

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