Shards of faith

She handed him an urn of innocent clay
Borne from the gentle, pristine earth
Unsullied by the squalor of the sly
Shaped by her open palms of faith.

It had no pomp of silver or gold
Nor embellishments of outer design.
A labour of love that would hold
The true reflection of their mind.

‘Twas to be burnt in the kiln of pain
And endure the merciless test of fire
But fortified by love it would remain
Indestructible by forces higher.

Alas, it fell from those callous hands
‘fore it could mould into permanence.
Smashing as it hit the veritable land
And she picked up the pieces in silence.

The crumbling pieces filled her hands
As she fervently fixed the urn again.
But now defiled by amorphous sand
The purity of ere it would never regain.

Her quivering heart upon him turned
Questioning those hands that wavered
Her reflection drained through the broken urn
Leaving her trust unanswered.

-Kirthi Radhakrishnan