SLC-S31/W4 – Creative Interpretation | The Object – “A Broken Clock

The clock had come to a halt at 2:17.

It seemed at first like a forgotten thing--a rusty old alarm clock with its smashed glass and dust that is settling in every crevice. It lay there in the wooden table next my bed as though it had resigned to its fate. No ticking. No ringing. No purpose. Just silence.

The more I gazed at it the more I began to feel uneasy. It was not merely broken, but it was frozen, it had caught hold of something that it was not going to release.

2:17.

Nothing to anybody was that time. But to me it was all.

It was the time when my life changed.

The phone call was received at 2:17 to the letter. I recall how my hands were shaking, how my heart was racing, and even before I picked it. There was something in me that already knew. There was some element in me that experienced the transition even before the words were uttered. And when they were, time did not simply fly--it stood still.

Ever since that day I have been going, not really living. I rise and pass through routine and talk to people and even laugh at times--but inside, somewhere within, something remained at 2:17. Like that clock.

I had not seen it the first thing. Life can be so pushing that whether you are ready or not, it pushes you forward. However, gradually, I started to understand that I was not healing, I was just taking a pause. I was living in a loop, repeating myself, asking questions that could not be answered, living in a moment that could not be changed.

And again I beheld the clock.

It had been occupying that position weeks, perhaps months. I never minded it, any more than I minded myself. However, that day something was different. The sunshine was passing through the window and striking the broken surface of the glass. The light that was flung through the broken lines made something, somewhat beautiful, strange.

At one time it did not seem to be broken.

It looked… alive.

And that is when a mere thought struck me--a thought I had heard before, but had never really comprehended:

The clock is correct twice a day.

I paused.

What was so broken could not be right? but how can anything that no longer moves, yet is true?

And then it hit me.

Perhaps being broken does not imply that you are useless.

Perhaps, to cease is not necessarily to stop.

Even in stillness perhaps there is meaning.

I was so preoccupied with the loss that I had not thought about what was left over. Yes something in me had broken off at 2:17. Yes, I was no longer the same person that I was. That did not imply that I was worth nothing. It did not imply that my story was over.

The clock with the broken hand no longer ticked, but it still showed the correct time--three times a day. Not always, not in every respect, but in any case, sufficiently.

And perhaps that was all I had to be.

Not perfect. Not fully “fixed.” Simply, be there to make a difference.

The understanding did not all at once make me better. It did not take away the pain or restore what I had lost. But it moved something. It allowed me to inhale once again with no regrets. To go on, though it might have been slow. It takes faith to believe that healing is not about returning to the past but it is about learning to live through what broke you.

That day I picked up the clock.

The cold metal was in my hands, the cracks gritty against my fingers. It was not perfect, was torn and was quiet but yet it was here.

Just like me.

I didn’t throw it away.

Rather, I put it again on the table--this time deliberately.

So, whenever I look at it, I do not simply see something that is broken. I see a reminder. A silent and strong message that is conveyed without any sound.

It is a reminder that time may pause with pain- but life need not.

It reminds me that, even on my worst days, I can still find moments throughout the day when I can be right, when I can feel alive once again, when I can still choose to keep moving.

It has reminded me that healing is not loud, dramatic and may often be silent, slow and unseen. Similar to a broken clock, it still tells the truth.

But, above all, it makes me remember that I am not determined by the moment when I was broken.

2:17 will be in my story forever. It will never be light, forgetful and unfeeling. But it does not rule me any more.

Owing to the fact I have seen something more:

You are not through with it, however frozen may be time, however stuck may be your heart, however shattered may be everything inside you.

You are still here.

And that means something.

What does the broken clock symbolize?

The broken clock is a symbol of stagnation of feelings emotional stagnation, being caught in the painful moment which seems to be impossible to get out of. It is a way of how trauma or loss may freeze an individual inside, despite the external continuity of life.

Is it a story of loss, hope, regret, or second chances?

It is a tale of defeat that gradually turns into hope, and then becomes a quiet second chance, a second chance to live but not to live ideally, to live and be meaningfully.

What lesson does your interpretation carry?

The moral of the story is that nothing can undermine value because it is broken. You do not necessarily need to be perfectly healed or fixed in order to count. You can still have moments of truth, purpose and life even in your pain, even in your stillness.

I invite @josepha, @stef1 and @mikitaly to drop a very constructive comments on this post and also to participate in this contest.

❤️I hope you enjoyed very much by reading my post. Thank you so much for reading till the end❤️

Best Regards By
@adese

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