she sat alone
in a dark corner
blanketed by
a veil of
thick dust
fearful of
display

cobwebs
her security blanket
do not disturb
her mantra

disfigured
fractured
scarred
believing
her best days
faded memories

choosing
darkness
as an ally
afraid of past
alliances
she sat

close inspection reveals
a chipped foot
dancing obviously
not in her plans

her arms intact
a good sign

hairline fractures
along her hips

a small chip
around her mouth
perhaps
from a glancing blow

her gold gilding
dulled
worn in spots
nearly removed
as if dust had
eaten away
at her soul

beneath the veil
a broken heart
a common pattern

repair
a delicate
daunting task

as if by chance
a poet spotted her
an artist
a lover of fine things
an affinity for
beautiful treasures

his attraction
immediate
his love
unlimited
his caring
unsurpassed

words
his specialty
could not help
his poetry
would have to be
of the hands
the heart
the spirit

she needed love
caring hands

her porcelain body
so fragile
delicate
rare
a special mixture
would be required

prayer
passion
patience

 

slowly
layer by layer
dust was removed
cleansed by
purified water

her delicate
finish
began to reveal
her spirit
her luster
her soul

her chipped foot
and mouth
were easily
filled with new porcelain
curing
would take time
the process
could not be rushed

the hairline cracks
only needed cleansing
her character
and personality
exposed by these
fine lines

gold leaf
imported from Egypt
would adorn her body
costs not an issue
she deserved the best

repair of the heart
the challenge

though a common
design
purification revealed
the heart had been
previously damaged

patience
loving hands
an open heart
undaunted will
and tender touch
were required
time
inconsequential

the poet’s patience
and love
were unrivaled

the process
of restoring
the heart
piece by piece
bit by bit
sometimes
grain by grain
began

he and she
lost track of time
the process
the only thing
of importance

today
sitting in a place
of honor

no longer
hiding
no longer
afraid of light
no longer
burdened by
her fears

she speaks
to the world
confident
secure
proclaiming

look at me
I am whole

Copyright © 2003 by F. Geoffrey Johnson   All rights reserved
First published in Restoration, a collection of poetry and prose, 2005