Broken Things by Sara Teasdale

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
Sara Teasdale

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.



  1. I’m so glad that one evening I came across your blog. I was searching for a particular poem and Read a Little Poetry was one of the search results. I’ve read so many poets’ work that I would never otherwise have come across. And I love your own writing. Such a wonderful engagement with art. Really pleased that you’re back. You have a fabulous sensibility.

  2. Your pairings of your own words with the poems you choose are a source of continual amazement and inspiration to me. I’m reminded, too, of WCW, finding beauty in that shard of glass, and of Perelman’s Chronic Meanings, how so much is said in what is “half unsaid.”

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