I am broken and mended,
a crystal that has been shattered
but has fused itself back together
so that it can shine.
I am broken and cracked,
a piece of glass that has experienced trauma,
but persevered because of it,
the light shining through the cracks.
I am broken but filled with light,
a chalice that has been crushed
so many times but each time,
I have gathered the pieces of me
and put myself back together.
Though I am whole again,
there are cracks in my body;
I carry them within my skin,
they look like spider’s webs
and I like to follow them
to see where they might lead me.
These cracks have let the light in.
I never truly started to live
until life was taken away from me.
From the moment that it happened,
I have been trying to prove
that I was not broken
and that I was whole.
I have shied away from the word
b r o k e n,
seeing it as something
to be ashamed of,
as if it meant that I was only random pieces
of myself held together with string
and bits of tape.
I should have realized that
the moment I broke
was the moment I was truly
I am held together
with the light
that comes from