Kentia palms catch a breeze
And sway gently in their rows;
This verdant sanctuary
Comforts me like the psalms.

I amble slowly between them -
My head tapped by the fronds.
I feel the warmth of the sun;
The fresh air fills my lungs.

A kintsugi pot rests on pebbles -
Beautiful but defiant.
Gold sealed up the fissures -
Reminding me of who I am.