Shards in my pocket

(an excerpt from my diary 12 months ago)

Last night I broke my favourite plate.

From the eye of my rage filled storm.

I let it fly

It was the full stop to my frustration

A shattered relief

1920′ porcelain struck against his grandfather’s table.

As I swept up the hand painted fragment karma looked at me


through eyelashes-

so she did not see my smile,

my satisfaction.

It was so easy,

so simple,

so sweet.

I carry the shards in my pocket

Relief reminding

That high above the fog

A blue sky is waiting

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