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.