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broken pieces 04.21.21


“Shhhh,” The woman said as she reached over and wiped my tears with her soft fingers. I opened my eyes and saw that tears were sliding down her cheeks as well. “We don’t need to worry about anything, do you understand? We don’t have enough energy to worry, only to fight.”

Only fight. My lips trembled.

Her brother approached us. “They are on the way.” He announced.

She nodded. “Thank you, Michael.” Then she directed her attention back to me. “My name is Angel. What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Belle.”

“What a beautiful name, for a beautiful woman,” She smiled.

I shook my head with emotion. “Oh, I’m not beautiful. I’m not anything,” I wept quietly. “I’m just broken pieces.”

Angel and Michael stood there, listening to me weep into the air.

After a few moments, Angel slid her hand from my face to my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “My dear,” I looked at her. “Brokenness is beautiful. Your brokenness is what makes your life beautiful.”

“There’s no beauty in things that are broken,” I blinked.

Michael spoke up quietly: “You know, stained glass windows are made from broken glass and they are quite breathtaking. What were once useless pieces of wreckage became a stunning work of art.” He leaned down and stared deep into my eyes. They were full of wisdom and peace, I felt like I could search his eyes for hours and get lost. “Don’t throw something away or discredit it just because it’s broken,” He said gently. “You never know what kind of masterpiece comes from broken things.”


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