This is for you. If you were waiting for a sign, this is it.
You needed to break so you will understand that you are made of fragments. And that you can be put back together.
This process—this living, this gathering of the self which has scattered—this is what is at stake, and not the pieces sliding into place.
You will never get back everything. This is the risk of living. Of loving.
You are stronger than you think.
Broken things are loveliest,
Broken clouds when dusk is red,
Broken waves where a rainbow rides,
Broken words left half unsaid.
Broken things, broken things—
How quietly they comfort me,
Riven cliffs, where I can watch
The broken beauty of the sea.