Poem: Mended Things


Mended Things

The wood is split on the boat’s bow, proof
that no matter the craftsmanship and materials
all things break, faced with enough
time and weather.

From a distance, you cannot see the repair.
The mahogany lapstrake gleams warm,
the hardware has aged, but look close
and you can see it.

The finish too bright. The hardware too new.
A bit of the epoxy oozes from under the steel fitting.
Not at all perfect, but beautiful none the less,
and stronger than the original.

About this poem

We never heal from our broken places the same as when we started.

The picture was taken at Mystic Seaport, CT.


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