I love the girl who’s spine is cracked
Bent backwards, a paperback worn out
Pages torn and crumpled from being tossed
So casually into forgotten corners
I smooth out the creases as best I can
Holding her gently, with reverence
Because I don’t think anyone has really taken the time
To read her treasures, the wealth of her soul
There are such verses beneath her vellum skin
Well worth a lifetimes devoted study
My lips forming the words of her worshipful
As mystic and holy as psalms.

She’s a mis-matched set of china
Porcelain chipped, glaze a web of cracks
Yet there is still beauty, history in each disparate piece
Volumes of thought and memory
Coded in the Braille of stretch marks,
Passages to be read in the fine lines
Sculpting a mouth of complex curvature
Furrows and wrinkles speaking beautifully
In silent language there for those willing
To watch and learn.

Together we are fixed in brokenness
Not whole but certainly not less
A pair of old chairs, second hand end table and reclaimed lamp
Things discarded, unwanted, recovered
Each other’s hands finding something
To save one another from the curbside
Or rubbish bin, to be taken in
Made into cherished heirlooms
By hands bent with love, bringing burnished luster
To scar tissue patina.

Old is not bereft of value,
They do say one’s garbage can be
Someone’s treasure, you just have to have the right eye
A place and a use and a corner of your heart
That needs what only that one
Will give to it.


3 Responses to “Reclamation”

  1. Excellent. Love it.

  2. near to the feeling of getting up on a cold fall morning with no electricity; creaky ‘n cranky

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