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.