Poetry

Only the very weak minded refuse to be influenced 

by literature and poetry.

~ Cassandra Clare

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When Leslie's mom was moving, Leslie was going through her mom's stuff.  One of the things she found was a red box with a note taped to it.  The note read, "Boo Hoo American Poets."  Inside was a dish with American poets on it.  A broken plate.

Seeing this reminded me of a saying I have heard a number of times before -- that the things we own own us. If we put too much value on items then we can be devastated when they are broken or lost. If we attach ourselves to things, then we give up a part of ourselves.

On the other hand, if we free ourselves from belongings, we are free. Free to move past moments when things we cherish are broken or stolen or lost or forgotten.

And on yet another hand, isn't it strange how we hold on to broken things? Broken dishes. Broken lawn mowers. Broken TVs. Broken hearts?

When I suggest you let go of a broken heart, I don't mean to literally rid yourself of a heart. I mean it poetically. As poetically as a broken dish poet.

And - you saw this coming, right? - "Broke Dish Poets" would be a great band name.