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Porcelain Shard in my Pocket

Thirteen years, then.

Thirteen, divine attributes in Jewish wisdom circles

Thirteen, number of completion, a full cycle of moons around the sun.

Thirteen, the years of being seen and 

heard into wholeness, fullness, for that time.


She gave me a piece of pottery shard once.

White and blue, in felt-antique fashion

She’d come across it on a run.

Stooped to pick it up

Much like she stooped for me.


I carried it in my pocket for months.

Uncertain of its symbolism

Trusting its fragility and perseverance

both.

For both of us.


We each got a porcelain mug

White and blue

Flowery print

Feeling like lace, but less fragile.

Still fragile, but less so.


The place where the women waited beckoned.

Church of the Holy Sepulchre,

Old City Jerusalem.

Eastern European pilgrims crowded around.

I reached out my hand

leaving the pottery shard there.

Unseen.

Unheard, but

Home. 


Its sharp edges dulled by pocket fuzz

Its fragility assured, now

witness to love’s perseverance

Women abandoned, found by women

left at the foot of the cross

the women’s cross, because it couldn’t

be a cross for all.


The pain was where it needed to be,

left behind, surrounded by pilgrims.


Thirteen years later, 

Circles have been birthed,

Well grounded into adolescence and adulthood

SoulCollage retreats have toddled into shape.

Held by elders, friends, companions all.

God/de spoke in woman healing woman.

God/de speaks in women 

breathing deeply for women.


“I’m not going to be okay for a long time,”

She said, sitting next to me on the bench.

“You know that, right?”

I nodded, thinking I did know.


I did not know.


Thirteen years, divine attributes each and all.

Thirteen, number of completion.

Thirteen, the years of being seen and heard into wholeness,

fullness, for that time.


I have a new pottery shard in my pocket now.

The mug of wholeness, no longer whole.

The question of healing emerging anew.

Always and ever emerging.

The questions I am not the one to ask, 

nor answer

at least for today.


Feels like forever.

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Wisdom Walker
I am a scholar, companion, friend, contemplative, wife, daughter, teacher, poet, and most importantly for this space, a writer. I learn best by entering into practice, listening deeply, and remaining open to those who will share their path and passions with me.

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