When the bowl smashed on the floor
Chipping the tile mopped by mom,
I went for the door to fly with the birds
They tweeted the pain of being free
Pushed me back to the ocean, to the dirt.
It never got better, it never got cleaner,
Only taught me to be better. 
Learning, fighting with the sword, 
Never losing a swing
Not knowing the outside world would bring--
Peace. 
The strokes hit the beach, the brush touched the canvass
And color broke the mountain longing to be traversed. 
I thanked that floor,
I thanked that bowl,
So I could find a new door.
One that accepted my soul.