Wabi Sabi,

Japanese, beauty in imperfection

“It seems everything in this house is broken,”
observes my visiting thirty-some son.

He wonders —
Why would I keep chipped vases
wingless angel statues
a wounded trumpeter cherub?

Why would I glue together the shattered shards
of Grama Lil’s porcelain sugar bowl
or the miniature Japanese vase
he gave me as a child on Mother’s Day?

Why would I wear his grandmother’s faded apron
or use her stained potholders,
Settle for hand-me-down furniture
Leave my mother’s favorite “Happy” jacket
hanging in the closet, years after she died?

Emma Lee D. understood . . .
Build a house, and over time
it becomes a Soul.

Mere objects retaining the owner’s energy become symbols
that bridge past to present, so we may hold loved ones
distant or departed, very near to us.

Being broken open, we grow through loss.
We learn to forgive the fallen angels who parented us,
friends and lovers who betrayed us
and others who hurt us.

Accepting faults in ourselves and others,
irritation slowly softens into affection —
so like the oyster, we can live with sand between our toes
and culture some of life’s pearls.

Imperfection, within and around us
over time
takes on a tender beauty.

Ann West, 2014