By Priyamvada KE
I run my fingers over my belly,
Around the waterproof dressings,
That neatly cover the incisions,
Stitched up with black surgical thread.
Four white patches that help me heal,
That display the surgeon's supreme skill,
The precision of the sharp harmonic,
That cut out what was potentially harmful.
Kintsugi – golden joinery, the Japanese call it
When a master craftsman repairs
A broken ceramic item with gold dust and lacquer,
And new gold lines hold the piece together.
I tell myself, my body is more beautiful,
After being broken and rejoined.
The healed scars like golden lines,
Are a sign of what I have survived.
My body is like a vase, a bit worse for wear,
After refurbishment, rejoining, repair...
And I am able to resume my life as before,
Finding meaning in words...
But will I be able to heal myself, realign my pieces,
And become a harmonious whole again?
A surgeon may have repaired my body
But I still need to Kintsugi me...
I still need to Kintsugi me… profound!
Very symbolic and metaphorical. Short, crisp and extremely well written.