I decided to entitle my blog "Happiness is like a crystal" because it is my favorite poem. It's one of those things that is just truly timeless (Just like hobos and whiskey). The first time I saw this poem was in a book that had belonged to my mother when she was a little girl. The book was published in the 1940's and by the time it fell in to my hands, had the front cover hanging on by a single dry-rotted thread. Though the book is full of amazing poems and stories from the minds of everyone from Shakespeare to Poe, there was something about a little poem by Priscilla Leonard that hit me so hard that it sticks with me still today. I even had my mom read it at my wedding. (She, ironically, had loved the poem, too!):
Fair and exquisite and clear,
Broken in a million pieces,
Shattered, scattered far and near.
Now and then along life’s pathway,
Lo! some shining fragments fall;
But there are so many pieces
No one ever finds them all.
You may find a bit of beauty,
Or an honest share of wealth,
While another just beside you
Gathers honor, love or health.
Vain to choose or grasp unduly,
Broken is the perfect ball;
And there are so many pieces
No one ever finds them all.
Yet the wise as on they journey
Treasure every fragment clear,
Fit them as they may together,
Imaging the shattered sphere,
Learning ever to be thankful,
Though their share of it is small;
For it has so many pieces
No one ever finds them all.
This poem really reminds me that my life is great. It is so easy to give up or to be pissed at the world that we often forget to be thankful for what we do have. I could be (and have been) so angry when I see people my age or older that have a dad that is living. It's hard, but then I realize that there are people in this world that NEVER (not even for a minute) have a dad. I was fortunate enough to have a really good one for 24 years. There is not a doubt in my mind that my dad loved me and would have done anything to make sure I was taken care of. As it has been longer and longer since I last heard him laugh or tell me a lame joke, the memories start to blur. The times with him start to become small tidbits. They become a fishing trip surrounded by fireflies or watching old Batman & Robin shows on a day he let me be "sick" from school. Fortunately though, with some of the good a lot of the bad fades. I am able now to see more of the man and less of the sickness. I can still hear his laugh and see his cheesy grin...and for that I am eternally grateful. I've yet to meet anyone who truly GOT the heart of this poem and lived it every day more than my dad. It totally sucks that he had to go, but I am so glad that I had the opportunity to have him in my life for even a short while. Which brings me to my next thought: "The brevity of life". (I'll save that for another post.) Oh, and by the way...I still have that book... and I still love it.
