i thought there were no more
broken places in me
but as i shifted my weight
i heard the tell-tale
tinkling of shattered glass
the whispering of lacerations
17 thoughts on “where there is glass (20161229)”
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floating and leaving no trace
i thought there were no more
broken places in me
but as i shifted my weight
i heard the tell-tale
tinkling of shattered glass
the whispering of lacerations
Comments are closed.
Love this. A great statement of vulnerability. I can relate 🙂
Thank you! It’s strange how we find ourselves made of rice paper when we think we’re made of more resilient fabric.
Yes, exactly!
your images of broken glass caused a visceral reaction in me.
I’m glad it made some kind of connection. I have a problem with sharp things, it seems, at least in my poems. I keep coming back to them.
I understand with heat, broken glass can be fused back together
Very true, but it will never be as strong, and those pesky cracks will always show. Unless you start over.
I have a lot of cracks myself
Stained glass is beautiful when the light hits it. I think the seams in the glass are no different than our cracks.
I like this one too. I imagine most of us can relate in some way with your beautiful image.
Thank you! Have a great New Year!
That, I’m afraid, is out of my hands. But I’ll do my best 🙂
Crows love tiny pieces of shiny glass which they carry around. No wonder you have an affinity for them! We are all broken inside. Beautiful poem!
Here’s to a year of not breaking.
Cheers, darling! 🎏 🎊 🎉
The pain is felt when I read this. Spectacular.
Thank you. 🌼