POEM - In The Porcelain

I. The Cup

A curve of white, so thin it sings

when struck by light—a whispered chime.

The glaze, a ghost of ancient kilns,

holds time suspended in its prime.

I lift it, feel the weight of air,

the heat of tea, the slow descent

of steam that curls like vanished prayer.

A vessel, yet so eloquent.

II. The Crack

A faultline runs in spider-silk,

a silver thread, a quiet scar.

No drop has spilled, no breach, no spill—

but now it trembles, just afar.

The craftsman’s hand once sealed it whole,

yet every mend still hums with ache.

What breaks is never quite erased—

it lingers in the hands that shake.

III. The Shelf

Behind glass, dust has laid its claim,

a film of years on untouched white.

The cup sits still, untouched, unnamed,

a relic of some faded rite.

Did someone sip from it and sigh?

Did laughter ring against its rim?

Now only silence fills its hold,

a hollow hymn, a dying hymn.

IV. The Fall

A slip—a gasp—a breath held tight—

then shards like stars upon the floor.

The porcelain, in bright collapse,

is now what it was meant for:

A scatter of fragmented light,

a map of what was once complete.

The pieces whisper as they land:

"We were always bound to meet."

V. The Glue

Gold lacquer traces every break,

a river binding shore to shore.

The cracks now gleam like veins of ore—

more precious than they were before.

For what is whole but fear disguised?

What’s mended knows the art of loss.

The cup now holds its history,

a relic worn, but not dross.

VI. The Hand That Holds

Fingers cradle its rebirth,

no longer smooth, but wise with lines.

The tea still steams, the light still shines—

the past and present now entwine.

And when it sings, it sings of both:

the fall, the mend, the weight, the air.

A thing once fragile, now unbroken—

not despite the cracks, but there.

Short Summary :-

"In the Porcelain" traces the life of a delicate cup—from its pristine creation to its near-destruction and eventual repair. Through vivid imagery, the poem explores themes of fragility, memory, and resilience. The cup’s crack becomes a metaphor for hidden wounds, its fall a moment of transformation, and its golden repair (kintsugi) a symbol of embracing imperfection. Ultimately, the poem suggests that true strength lies not in remaining unbroken, but in carrying our fractures with grace.