The Mended Soul Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

A broken cup, a fallen tear,
A whisper in the dark, 'I fear
I'm not myself, the joy has flown,
My spirit withered, overthrown.'

Do mended pieces make me whole?
A different shape, a brand new soul?
Or is it finding what was lost,
The true me, paying sorrow's cost?

To build again, with patient hand,
On solid ground, where I can stand?
Or dig beneath the painful scar,
To find the person that you are?

Perhaps it's both, a winding way,
A stronger self, come what may.
The old still breathes, but learned and wise,
Reflected in new, hopeful eyes.