Allowing Distress

Stop to look and you see it.
The history of repairs and patches.
A bit of brickwork replaced.
Mortar crumbled.
Fallen stucco revealing worn stones.
A smidge of rot on the shutters.
Wires willy nilly.
Some of them still work.
A piece of marble, a step
so new it is jarring in its perfection.

It is a strange kind of beauty
that comes from allowing age
and distress to show,
while holding your head high
and almost daring the world
to see anything but beauty.
Do it long enough
and with just enough panache
you become not the wounded you are,
but art,
treasured in every glorious imperfection.

About this poem

About Venice. About people. Poetry is never about one thing.

The picture is, of course, was taken in Venice

Be well. Travel wisely. Let it show.

Tom