121 – Kintsugi

The wind on his face was cold
And filled with icy pinpricks
As he watched from the hill
Towards his former life.

They say with age comes wisdom.
He knew that wasn’t true,
You can become an old fool
Without trying very hard.

Still, what he had found
After so many years
Might not be wisdom,
But came pretty close.

He had discovered
How to talk back
To the loud voices
In his head.

He had not made peace with them,
But now at least they had
A shaking and uneasy
But manageable truce.

The pacifist, the soldier,
The creator, the destroyer,
Ill-fitting masks
With no real meaning.

There was nothing to defend,
He was already broken.
Nothing left to fear,
Or be ashamed of.

He didn’t have a voice
That he could call his own.
But now he could be free
To find it.