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This poem, for me, is a mask for human life. There are SO many ways I could interpret what Jane said in such a short space. I LOVE this! And the picture seems to show that not every piece fits back together properly. Isn’t that JUST THE WAY IT IS for each of us? And how many times can our “bowls” be dropped before there’s no way to make them stick back together again. Of course as long as you CAN get them to hang together, Plato would say, “Well, that’s how the light gets in!” And God would say, “I only use cracked pots so the light can shine out!” Just loved it!

Making it write

Cattien_ceramic_bowl 2

sentient life
fragmented
like the gold glass bowl
which
after so many admiring glances
shattered that day
showering the kitchen with sharp shards

you tried
to put it together again,
as it was or
as you remember it or
as you would like it to be or
as well as you could

you tried to repair it

too late
you remember
Humpty Dumpty

© Jane Paterson Basil

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