They don’t contain me now –
Not your thoughts,
None of your memories;
Memories – all black and grey,
Stinging dupery of times gone astray.
Thank God for people who
crossed my ways
in life’s forlorn alleys
and caressed my spirit with Holy grace.
I somehow moulded my broken pieces together-
Like a beautiful piece of pottery is done.
They see the scars on my soul –
O yeah, they remain – your leftovers –
but also recognise
what it took me to
and how I made myself
whole again –
A beautiful mess that now I am!