It was the day,
My broken leg,
Healed my broken heart.
Yes. I fell off my bike,
And my leg was placed in a cast.
I yelled in pain,
Tiny, damaged ligaments can be quite bothersome.
But, not as much as the sharp, burning pain,
That pierced my beating, hurting heart.
Lost love had me undone.
The humiliation of rejection scored through my arteries and veins,
Like listless red poison, making me cringe,
Washed over by a feeling of unworthiness.
Wanting desperately to be wiped off; of the face of the earth.
Turning into nothingness.
The broken leg brought with it,
Broken moments of loneliness,
Alone, cast aside, in a cast.
Examining my brokenness. Every little fragment.
Fractured. Shattered. Dishevelled. Disjointed.
Like a mother would her newborn.
In awe, in anguish and in dreadful glee.
Until, through the broken pieces
Gleamed a pristine, white light,
At first, I thought it was some fancy new-age baba
With his timeless infinite wisdom.
Hell No! It was my brokenness,
Shining back at me.
Telling me I was always whole.
And I was always enough.
Of course, it was the day
When a broken leg meant a mended heart.
Rupa Peter is a lover of words, coffee and life’s little nuances. She is an Assistant Professor, Media Studies at Jyoti Nivas College Autonomous, Bengaluru. You can find her on Instagram and read her blog.