The Meaning of Broken Glass
In the darkness, I felt my world crack through.
Each piece came apart...
Slowly showered into the abyss.
Broken fragments,
Beautifully shining,
Sharp and bloodied.
For a moment, another lay in my place.
I went elsewhere... empty.
The meaning of broken glass.
How a life looks when it's shattered.
Does brokenness still show, put together?
Do the pieces bleed back together...
Or do the ones who really look see?
I wondered, was I holding my own hand?
If I was, should I cut the hand off?
I'm only supposed to be me.
Is that weeping my own-
Thousands of condemned angels can only cry.
I was distracted by my breathing.
Surprised I could hold so still.
Placid, drifting glass turned to knives,
Plummeted down-
Gouging.
Telling me I had too much on my mind.
A voice cut through and
Someone told me he loved me.
I know him!
And whoever that girl was
Standing in for me,
Holding me so still...
Vanished.
I was myself again.
I felt pain and warmth reenter
And I told him I loved him too,
Meaning it. The pain subsided.
I live my life for myself.
But I live happily for him.
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If I am what you want to see, then how am I myself? It is a hard realization for far too many that we see only what we want to see. To fixate on pain is to invite it... and to reach for the light is to bring it.
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