I am fragile.

Breaking with a wrong push.

A bend that should not have been attempted.

Fractures that require constant repair.

Put back together with a careful hand.

Glued together with gold.

***

I was originally shaped with just as careful of a hand.

I wonder if they saw me as unblemished or covered in gold.

Is my fate to be nothing except what shines or in between?

There is nobody to tell me whether or not the breaks are intentional or have meaning.

A break meant to shatter or a rescue from a break.

A repair or a piece of art in progress.

***

Sometimes I do not see the gold.

I see the breaks and the handling it took to make them.

When that happens the ceramic cries out.

An engraved memory that was not created by the ceramic.

Hated state.

Dreaming of an unblemished existence.

***

Gold remains gold.

Valuable in itself.

Perhaps a great gift in the end.

Only a little trust needed.

Sight set on the careful hand.

Picking me back up when I fall.