The china cup was my mother’s,
The one small thing of beauty in her harsh life.
It held her smile, her hands as rough and gnarled as branches
With their tender touch.
I carried it across continents and oceans,
The one small thing of beauty in my lost life.
It held my endurance and my patience.
Today it broke.
I can no longer endure.
I can no longer be patient.
My rage consumes me,
For what is broken cannot be unbroken.
Our shattered past,
Our fractured future
are beyond mending.
My daughter takes the shards.
With her granny’s tender touch,
she pieces them together.
Patient when it seems they do not fit.
Enduring when their edges cut her fingers.
She hands me back the cup, whole.
“Unbroken,” she says.
© Nicola Davies, from Choose Love, Graffeg 2022