What's Broken?
Why it's important to take stock of what is and isn't broken in our lives.
Today, I want to share a favorite poem and a writing prompt inspired by that poem. The poet is Dorianne Laux. I first became aware of her work 40 years ago, when she submitted a poem for publication in the first edition of The Courage to Heal. I’ve followed her work ever since. I love her powerful, eloquent voice.
This is one of her poems that I’ve often used as the basis of a writing prompt for my students. What I love about prompts like this is that you can take them anywhere. In this case, you could write about a broken water heater, a broken promise, a broken heart. In the world we’re living in today, this poem—and the resulting prompt—have become especially poignant.
What’s Broken
Dorianne Laux
The slate black sky. The middle step
of the back porch. And long agomy mother’s necklace, the beads
rolling north and south. Brokenthe rose stem, water into drops, glass
knobs on the bedroom door. Last summer’spot of parsley and mint, white roots
shooting like streamers through the cracks.Years ago the cat’s tail, the bird bath,
the car hood’s rusted latch. Brokenlittle finger on my right hand at birth—
I was pulled out too fast. What hasn’tbeen rent, divided, split? Broken
the days into nights, the night skyinto stars, the stars into patterns
I make up as I trace themwith a broken-off blade
of grass. Possible, unthinkable,the cricket’s tiny back as I lie
on the lawn in the dark, my hearta blue cup fallen from someone’s hands.
Now here’s the prompt:
What’s broken? Alternate a paragraph of what’s broken with what isn’t broken. If we only focus on what’s broken, we’ll get caught in a constant state of despair.
This was my response:
My heart is broken. My faith in my country is broken. My faith in the possibility that the damage will be repaired in my lifetime. That we will turn back toward justice and compassion, a healthy livable planet. I am thinking maybe in my children’s lifetime. Maybe in my grandchildren’s.
What’s not broken? The peaceful green of chlorophyll wafting from the trees at Schwan Lake Park. The dirt path, sometimes dry, sometimes muddy, the shadows in the trees, sunlight filtering through. The glory of nature. The movement of wind and waves and trees, communicating underground with a brilliance we can barely imagine, all things that do not care who is President or King or what humans wreak upon this earth.
What’s broken. Human kindness. Compassion. The belief that every human deserves dignity and more than just the meagerest means of survival. What’s broken is trust in our neighbors. The belief that every American deserves a place of respect and dignity. What’s broken is our justice system, our Supreme Court, our Congress, our political parties, our voting. No wonder people want to tear it all down. We are so broken.
What’s not broken, in fact what we must celebrate, are all the alternative media sources springing up to supplant the big conglomerates who have acquiesced in advance. The lawsuits being filed. Those fighting from within and from the ground. Those who are resisting with commitment, determination and yes, even joy.
What’s broken? If I spent the next two hours making a list, I would barely scratch the surface. But the same is true of what’s not broken.
The beautiful friends I have nurtured through a lifetime. The way we support each other. Hold each other. Laugh with each other. Laugh at each other—with love, acceptance and compassion. My relationships with my children and grandchildren are not broken. The people I love and those who love me back. These ties have held for decades, and we will bolster each other now in these stormy seas.
Our agreements with the rest of the world to protect the planet and each other—broken. When I start obsessing on what is at stake and how much may be broken, I go out in the woods with my i-phone camera to seek out and capture beauty. I look for the timeless. For moments of grace and awe because they still exist and are more precious and necessary than ever.
My home is not broken. My marriage is not broken. The communities I lead and participate in are not broken. I can still put words on a page. I can still speak from my heart. I can still use words as a laser, a cudgel, a caress, a lesson. My creativity is definitely not broken—it is flourishing. How can it be that I am flourishing and heartbroken at the same time?
My attention is my own. Sometimes it feels like all I get to control. All I get to manage. To focus on what is breaking or on the resilient seed that lives inside me and you and all of us, should we turn toward it. I want to focus on what isn’t broken, on the small things I can do something about. That I can fight for.
What’s broken? I’m reminded of those Highlights for Children magazines from my childhood. In each issue, there would always be one page with a black and white illustration, full of small details, that asked, “What’s wrong with this picture?” If you looked closely and studied the picture, you could see the bicycle was upside down, someone was wearing a hat on their feet and shoes on their ears. The sun was on the ground and the legs of the table were facing the sky. Right now, in our country, the question isn’t what’s wrong with this picture, but rather, what isn’t wrong? But if we look harder, if we train our eye to look and our hearts to be steadfast, we can see what is right with this picture.
A cornerstone of resistance is seeking beauty, building upon what’s working, staying connected to our communities and not caving into despair. Courage and resilience are called for and they can be built. They are skills we can foster and learn.
It all comes back to what we pay attention to, how we step up to do our own small part, how we continue to live our lives and do what matters. What’s not broken will save us. What’s broken can bury us if we let it. We must not let it.
Now it’s your turn. Pull out your notebooks. Write for fifteen minutes.
PROMPT: What’s broken? Alternate a paragraph of what’s broken with what isn’t broken. If we only focus on what’s broken, we’ll get caught in a constant state of despair.
As always, I invite you to share your thoughts or excerpts from your writing in the comments.
How To Get the Most Out of Writing Prompts:
If you’re new to my Substack, here’s my advice for how to mine the deepest material in your writing:
Thank you! You captures beautifully the balance between what’s broken and what endures. It reminds us that even in despair, hope lives in the unbroken parts: love, nature, creativity. A reminder to draw strength from what's not broken.