i am thrown to the ground,
a clay pot,
shattered.
my pieces are crushed into the dirt,
walked over,
scattered.
i pick myself up,
barely held together,
unbalanced.
i am thrown to the ground-
the sound of clay breaking,
silenced.
i mix the materials
and add in the gold dust
and patch the pieces
and throw away the old us.
it's a different pot now,
healed through kintsugi.
i'm a different person now,
beautiful through the new me.