General Discussions > Writing

The Broken Vesel.

(1/1)

TwoSpiritNerd:
   A woman had a beautiful vessel that she loved very much. She cherished it and cared for it as if it were a living, breathing entity. In the spring she would fill it with fresh flowers and set it on display for all to see. In the summer she would fill it with fronds of the evergreens that grew nearby. In the fall she would adorn it with ears of Indian corn and wheat. In the winter she would move it to her cozy sitting area and fill it with the last tall blades of lemongrass from the harvest.
It was a prized possession for it had been with her for many years and through many seasons. Some seasons there was not a great abundance to fill the vessel with while other times the flowers flourished and the harvest was bountiful. Through the heat and the bitter cold, this vase was her companion.

Those who knew her, knew her vase and what it meant to her. They knew there was no replacement and no other one as unique.
One day while admiring its beauty as it sat atop her mantle, a violent storm came raging through town. It uprooted trees and tore rooftops from homes. It was so ferocious that it gouged out deep wounds in the earth as it angrly sought to destroy everything in its path. As it raged toward her she stood for a moment paralyzed by fear. It was so angry! So unforgiving! She felt powerless, frozen. As the funnel cloud raced toward her, bent on destruction she instinctively ran to protect her vase without any regard for her own safety. The violence roared past her kicking up dirt and debris and flinging it at her. It exhaled all its rage directly at her precious vase and sent it tumbling from its throne!

She dived for it, trying desperately to save it but she was just too far away to reach it before it crashed to the floor and broke into hundreds of pieces.

As soon as it came, the storm passed and she sat weeping on the floor gingerly gathering up the fragments of her broken, priceless vessel. The loss she felt in that moment was like none she had ever felt before. That vessel she loved so much was so damaged that there just seemed no way to ever put it back together. Even if she did, it would never be the same.

But she had many things that the storm did not. The storm had energy, as did she. The storm had anger, as did she. The storm had absolutely no regard for others' opinions, nor did she. But the storm did not have patience. The storm did not have love or hope, but she did.
She lovingly gathered up the broken pieces and bit by bit she put them back together. She mixed glue with pure gold powder so that wherever there was a crack, it would glisten in the sun, turning a reminder of pain into a story of healing and beauty.

Once restored she set it on display once again but guarded it with a perimeter that would prevent the storm from ever touching it again. Sure, this perimeter prevented anyone from touching it but its beauty was still there for all to admire.

Her friends would comment on how skillful she was and how resourceful she was to turn a broken worthless vessel back into a thing of joy and beauty.
Upon close inspection one friend noticed that deep in the bottom of the vase there was a large piece missing. You couldn’t tell from the outside but if you were ever permitted to get close enough to see inside you would clearly see the large missing piece.
The friend asked her, “what happened to this piece inside?”
“That piece” She said with a pained smile on her face, “That piece was carried away by the storm. I don’t know where the storm took it and I don’t know what condition it is in but one day, I will find that missing piece and then my vessel will be whole again.”

Navigation

[0] Message Index