Kintsugi:
Gold spills out of my mother’s womb.
Shattered, she brings life into the world.
The broken vase has sharp edges,
as sharp as the thorns of a velvet carmine rose.
My brother representing the seas, whereas I carry the name of just one.
The tides come and go,
as I stand on my two feet, alone.
I am not used to it.
Usually, I’m encompassed by an entourage of support,
that bends to my will, fights for my needs.
The solitude of the pillars surrounding me create Zen.
Papa does not enjoy that solitude, neither does mother.
The distance forms a rift.
I listen to the calming beats of Pop and rejoice in the melody of instruments.
My pen touches paper to actualize my thoughts,
however, it never comes out right…
I might be in it too deep.
As the growth of my soul, 
pours like gold
on a broken vase
Performing Kintsugi.
