Thursday, January 17, 2013

Dear me,


Today I learnt that this is an adjective.
 Maybe not a real one;
one of those noun adjectives, like clay
 it is a type of clay used for making fine china.
I learnt that such china is so fine that it is made for delicate hands.
When held up to the light, you can almost see through it.

My porcelain,
This word is both a synonym and antonym to you.
Delicate? The hands that have held you haven't always been.
They have left you with scratches,
cracks and mismatched patterns from patching yourself together.

Very rarely do they see you.
They don't look at YOU.
They don't hold you up to the light.
So the fine lines and patterns they miss;
The finesse with which you've been fashioned by your maker,
Your true essence rooted in your origins
perfected by your paths,
chosen and provided.

My porcelain
Need my hands be delicate?
They've bled on you a couple of times,
when trying to pick up your pieces I've been cut.
Can my hands remain delicate?

At first, my vision was cloudy.
I knew not how to see, you.
Holding you to the light never occurred to me.
But I sought, because I knew,
you are much more than your scars,
your repute or your growl.

I hold you to the light.
Through the cracks I see,
what I've always known you to be,
a precious gem that deserves to be treasured.
To be held delicately in loving hands.
My porcelain.

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