There is this art
where
splintered clay, fragmented parts, isolated shards
and
separation
is
forged in connection
beyond the heroism of any individual
kintsugi heals brokeness exactly at the cracks
only in the togetherness of the many
only in relationship
can iron bonds be indelible
can we paint
these veins
with streaks of gold?
can our brittleness
break us
into a positive disintegration?
can this bone-dry fragmentation
only remind us of rehydrating love?
can we fire the wheel so that
the rims of creation
run in accordance to the circles
of life?
to pull up walls of divine boundaries
where we see walls not as borders
but as bridges of foundation for respect
mutuality
and
love?
Can the precipices
those tensely edged places
despite fearing the fall
be streaked in gold,
as we dive and pirouette
in grace
hugged a gravity
where there is no ground
ah this kiln of kinship
is this the ground of kinsugi?
dust, cracks, heat and all