In the gallery of my life, I once displayed a mosaic, crafted with pieces of my essence. Each fragment was a chapter, a melody, a whisper of my soul. They were the right pieces—genuine, pure, and full of promise. But as fate would have it, they fell into the wrong hands.
These hands, like careless curators, mishandled the treasures I offered. They took the laughter and returned to silence, accepted trust, and repaid it with betrayal. The right pieces of me, once vibrant and hopeful, were tarnished by their touch.
I watched as my mosaic became a jigsaw, with pieces forced into places they never belonged. The picture that emerged was unrecognizable—a distorted reflection of who I was meant to be. The wrong people had taken the right pieces and reshaped them into a portrait of their own design.
But from this realization, a new resolve was born. I reclaimed my fragments, one by one, from the unworthy hands that once held them. With each piece returned, the true image of myself began to re-emerge. The colors brightened, the edges sharpened, and the essence that was solely mine started to glow once more.
Now, I guard my mosaic with a wiser heart. I share my pieces sparingly, with those who cherish their value. For I have learned that not everyone will treat the right pieces of me with the respect they deserve. And so, I build my mosaic anew, with hands that know the worth of what they hold.
In the end, it is not about the pieces we give, but the hands we choose to give them to.
Copyright © Beatriz Esmer
Beatriz Esmer 