Eating from Brokenness

In the kitchen light, the chipped plate calls,

a relic from dinners, a witness to falls.

I pour my cereal, each flake dances free,

reminders of moments, the comfort of me.

Its cracks hold the stories, of meals shared and laughs,

a shard of my childhood, the heat from the baths.

I hear echoes of mornings, where sunlight would gleam,

and life felt so perfect, like a flowing dream.

Though it’s chipped and uneven, I find solace in flaws,

a canvas for memories, life’s gentle pause.

Every bite is a token of warmth and of grace,

I choose it each morning, in this fractured space.