The Broken Bowl

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
A fight begins, a fight ends. This is how it works, but sometimes the pieces are impossible to put back together. Sometimes they are shattered.

Submitted: June 12, 2011

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Submitted: June 12, 2011



A man walks in and says, “Turn it down.”

The girl calls back, “In a minute, I'm playing a game.”

The man come over angry, mean, “Now.”

The girl turns toward him turn it blurs.

A shove as the man tries to turn the computer off.

A chair falls, taking the girl with it.

The girl is scared as she hits her head, hard.

She begins to kick the man with both her feet.



A bowl falls to the floor, broken.

The girls sees nothing but the bowl, shattered on the floor.

The man sees nothing but his bloody foot.

A woman comes in, pissed off.

“I'm going to get you some boxes,

You're moving out tomorrow.”

The man says, “No don't do that.'

The girl has lost control.

She can't listen anymore, it hurts too much.

She hugs her knees close to her chest

And plugs her ears with her fingers.

She doesn't mean to, but she begins to rock and shake.

She can't stop, doesn't want to. It feels calming.

She hears nearly nothing, she tries to block it out.

A pat on her head, from who?

Her eyes are clenched shut, doesn't dare open them.

Then the woman is there, she grabs the girl's arms hard.

“Listen to me now!” she yells to be sure the girl hears.

“Open your eyes!” she shouts.

The girl eyes slowly open and look without seeing.

“Can you hear me,” still fierce.

The girl can't speak, just nods her head.

“You will not fight me, or I will kick you out.”

Still the girl says nothing.

She did not start a fight, the man did,

But she doesn't say this,

The woman would never believe.

The woman has never believed her.

The woman and the man both leave

And the girl continues to sob.

So much pain in her heart can not be relieved.

Soon she begins to speak to herself.

Once she starts she is unable to stop.

“My bowl, my brand-new bowl.

He broke my new bowl, I just got it.

He broke it, he broke it,” she sobs.

“My bowl, my brand-new bowl.

It's broken it beyond repair.”

Still sobbing she tries to put the pieces back together.

She finds only two bowls, but she had gotten four.

“He broke two, he broke two of my precious bowls.

I loved them, I loved them

And he broke them, he doesn't care.”

She looks at the fragments he didn't pick up.

“Shattered, shattered beyond repair.

My precious bowls, my brand-new bowls.”

She wails on and on unable to stop.

It hurts so much. She had only just gotten these bowls.

Finally she works up the will and strength to stand.

She grabs the broom to clean up the fragments.

Her arms won't stop shaking and she has to lean on the broom.

Lean on it for strength and hope and courage.

Then she put the fragments in the garbage where they belong.

With that task done she lies on the bed

Still sobbing and shaking

But she is also smiling at the completion

Of such a small task because

She was able to do it through the pain.

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