Broken pieces breathe in fractured light.

Shadows gather
where hands once held the whole,
where silence pressed against the heart.

Shame, fear, quiet sins;
they have always been seen.

Still I clutch the fragments,
whispering prayers
that fade into hidden corners.

Rain seeps into the cracks,
soft and unrelenting,
turning splintered pieces
into something that can hold.

Mercy drifts like wind,
finding places
we never meant to reveal,
resting until even the smallest fragment gleams.

Let what is fractured
become a vessel.
Not polished,
not perfect,
only true.

Brokenness becomes a home
for light,
for what was lost,
gathered,
mended,
made whole.