With tears in her blue eyes, she said,
“It’s broken, Daddy! I don’t know how to fix it.”
As she held the fragile thing out to him,
He could see the pain it had caused her.
His dark eyes were filled with compassion
He held out his hands to her and she gave it to him.
He looked at it carefully, running his thumb across the edges.
“Do you see this?” He asked softly. Those eyes
Were intently watching her as she moved in closer.
“This sharpness is what severed it in the beginning.”
As he spoke, he showed her a small edge protruding
Sharper than any knife she’d ever seen.
Her eyes widened and her face flushed.
He continued, “It seems to have gotten worse since then.”
He paused. “Sometimes these things cannot be fixed.”
She took a deep breath and waited
For his solution. His eyes were piercing
As he said, “You will need to take care of that
Before anything else can be repaired.”
She sighed and looked down. This
Would be much harder than she’d thought.
“I should have brought this to you sooner.”
She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down.
She felt her father wrap his arms around her as she cried.
“My child, “ he said, “you know that I love you.
I understand that you cannot be perfect.”
Her shoulders shook and a great weight was lifted.
She knew what she had to do, and now
She was prepared to do it. He waited
And when she returned, she handed it back to him.
The sharp edge was still there, but it looked
As if she’d filed it down until it was quite dull.
“That hurt a lot, didn’t it?” he asked. She nodded.
“It will never go back the way it was,” he smiled,
“Although sometimes I think it’s better afterwards.
There is some beauty in symmetry, but I like
All of the little differences that make you unique.”
She thought about this. “We’re all so different.
Is that why?” His smile widened. “Yes.”
He handed it back to her. “Is that better?”
She turned it over and over in her hands, realizing
That although it wasn’t the same as it was before
It was beautiful in its own strange way.