Broken things
You pick up a broken thing
You see it is beautiful
beautiful in-spite it's broken
beautiful because it is broken
its brokenness is not an absolute for you
its not how you see it, not like the world does
you see it like you would see yourself
because you know
there are no mirrors that will show you your true reflection
and that's why you turn towards broken things
for you the cracks aren't cracks, but they are nerves which can now be seen
you mourn for the fallen parts, especially the missing ones
they are gaps, like your own stories which you yourself have forgotten
its incompleteness makes it alive, or at least gives it the sense of having being lived
like how once you believed you did
and then you try to hold it close to you forgetting
its broken
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, like it, a great write.