Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Broken Tea Cups

Broken Tea Cups

One broken tea cup, tiny cracks
     too fine for the eye to see.
     I pour into you all my best.
     Each time you end up burning me.

Broken tea cup, fractured deep,
     you hold so much but always seep.
     Wholeness is the illusion you cast,
     but you're not what you pretend to be.

Broken tea cup, such fine cracks, never to be repaired,
     one cannot correct what remains unseen.
     Tea you shall continue to spill,
     your purpose always unfulfilled.

But this other:
Broken tea cup, many shards,
     well beyond repair,
     who left you in such mean estate?
     Who showed so little care?

Broken tea cup, there you sit,
     in pieces, sharp and broken.
     Can it be you have a purpose;
     one, to date, as yet unspoken?

Broken tea cup, please join me
     in creating something new!
     A mosaic of new life,
     transformed, redeemed in Truth.

Broken tea cup?  You are not!
     It was never your true design.
     Now you're something different--lovely, wonderful and whole:
     something I want to claim as mine.


  1. who is the broken cup? (and who is the speaker?) hmm...

  2. That is one of the benefits of poetry (even poetry as bad a this): it's all open to interpretation. Death of the Author!