Integrity

I tenderly collected the shattered ceramic off the floor. 

Below, a steady embrace of my thumb,

above, the decisive prong of my pointer finger

held onto the island of silky smoothness

surrounded by the wounded and jagged ring 

that once seamlessly flowed

until the curled banks of the bowl’s rim

cascaded toward its narrow, sturdy floor.

In the pool of its stained-white, now severed, canvas 

light’s golden reflection danced with the shadows

of muted colors and melting shapes, 

indistinct enough to find myself shaken by the striking familiarity.

To my own horror and awe, this same reflection

was being casted onto the multitude of splinters at my feet.

And here is my work, to bring together again (with courageous grace).