Poetry

Beauty Seeker

Once again I sit in the shattered pieces
of my broken heart

Like shards of glass each cut and
break, deeper and more irreparable
than the last

I try to find myself in the pieces like
looking for a reflection in slivers of a
broken mirror

I’m losing myself more and more with
each tragic break

And yet you tell me to find beauty
from the pain

And yet you tell me beauty will rise
from these ashes

But with each fire I am burnt out more
and more

The glue used to put me back together
is slowly wasting away too

I come unglued and am surrounded by
only brokenness once more

Why put me back together if
tomorrow I will only come apart
again?

And yet you tell me that beauty comes
from brokenness

And yet you tell me that beauty will
come from decay

I see only ugliness as I search for a
glimpse of who I used to be in the
pieces of my broken heart

Staring back at me like a mirror of
souls, the truth pierces me like the
shards of glass my heart resembles

I will not find beauty from my pain;
beauty will not rise from these ashes

Brokenness covers the
beauty and decay eats away at it even more

So how can you tell me beauty will
come when all I see is darkness?

So how can you promise this pain in
my chest, these cracks in my heart will
be healed?

The fragility of my heart was no
secret, though the handlers of it acted
as it were

The past grabbed hold to the present
until it broke into my future

Fear seeped its way into each sliver
until they became cavernous cracks

Walls and guards thrown up while I
repaired what was broken within

Vulnerable and unguarded only long
enough to be destroyed again

Soon the walls will become as
permanent as the scars left behind the
hurt

How could anyone find beauty among
all this aching?

You tell me that beauty is in the eye of
the beholder

You tell me that the one to find this
beauty, to make the beauty rise from
the ashes, will be the one to stitch the
cracks of my heart

The one to look past the brokenness
and past the decay, is the one who will
knock down the walls and become the
guard of my fragile heart

You tell me that this is the way the
beauty will be found

But I fear that the walls will be too
high, the cracks too deep

That by the time the beauty seeker
finds me, it will be too late

So how can I believe that beauty will
be found again,

Swallowed by the darkness of my fear
that pushes me farther from the one
that could heal me?