The Joy of Breaking

When the telephone rang, she
forgot the ceramic bowl
that held the strained carrots
in an instant, small fingers grasped the rim
held it high momentarily
then flung it Pop! like a pistol shot
instant of scattered shards and spattered orange paste
with shock-pried stare, mouth agape
he waits her reaction
Shit! The word is spat against the phone
Then his sudden gleeful laughter
Fingers that grasp for
something else to break
That a child should take
such joy in breaking
would seem to bode ill
for the man that child will be
Except that Hands are sculpted by Time
Brain is tempered and tuned
and Fingers are given to making
The clay at last
turned deliberately, fired
an Act of Slow Deliberation
An act of Change
which more slowly opens the Heart
and at last reveals the Love of Making
(should one transcend the Joy of Breaking)