Imagine the hands holding the pieces

that have shattered; the attention that cleans,

witnesses and attends to the breaks.

How would the fragments feel as liquid glue

is applied? Then, when dry, the brush

lighting up the joins with powdered gold.

 

I see mine gleaming like a stream across

my belly, after the ectopic that nearly took me;

across my mouth for the sorrow of not speaking

my ancestors’ tongue. But like the source

of a river, all ruptures are born in the heart.

A corazón in need of repair then.

 

What if our yóllotl, our heart’s golden seams

illuminated our way in the world?

_______________________________________________*Inspired by the Japanese art of Kintsugi

 

corazón; heart, Spanish

yóllotl: heart, Náhuatl, the most widely spoken indigenous language.