If God Mended With Gold

There is a hush
that settles on the world
after the rain—
as if heaven itself
needed to cry
before remembering
how to be gentle again.

I wonder
if this is how God feels
when we go quiet.

When we step outside
not to speak,
but to listen—
to the wind through pine needles,
to our own breath
returning to rhythm.

In Japan, they say
a bowl once shattered
can be made whole
with veins of gold.
Kintsugi.

What if faith works the same way?

What if the cracks
in my devotion
don’t shame Him,
but give Him
a way in?

I am not less holy
because I’ve broken.
Only more
capable
of holding Him.

Author’s Note:

This poem was inspired by a beautiful exchange I had with a fellow writer (@mrckly on Instagram and Threads) who introduced me to the Japanese concept of mono no aware—a tender awareness of life’s impermanence. That conversation opened a door inside me. One I didn’t even realize was closed.

In exploring Japanese philosophies like kintsugi—the art of repairing broken pottery with gold—I started thinking about my own faith, the times I’ve felt cracked or distant from God, and how maybe the distance itself is a kind of invitation. Maybe the breaking isn’t the end, but a beginning.

This piece is also a quiet ode to my grandfather. He was Peruvian, but always looked Japanese and I've long wondered if there’s some ancestry buried in our lineage. Maybe it's just a feeling. Maybe it’s something deeper. Either way, this poem helped me reconnect: o my roots, to nature, to God.

If you’ve ever felt far from faith, fractured, or unsure where you stand—this one’s for you. We’re still worthy of gold.

If this poem resonates with you, I’d love to hear how you’ve found beauty in your own broken places. Leave a comment, share your thoughts, or send it to someone who might need a reminder: you don’t have to be perfect to be precious.