Broken Glass

Unpublished pieces

Solitude is a single gust of wind
which crashes rudely against
the glass

which is lying broken on the ground.

I broke the window some time ago
Smashed the glass with the fury of my hands

in rebellion

against the concept of being buried in a box

which was made of promises and hope
that the tongues of lies would be

forgiven and forgotten

The sun picked out the shards of glass
and made them shine like

pockets of diamonds left naked
on the ground

Reflections of permission slips
for field trips
anticipated but not
in fact taken.

A butterfly lay dying
its wings ripped and torn
by the pain it felt

Crippled and unable to fly ever again

it hopelessly flapped its antennae
trying to locate its source of healing

It was not aware that the glass
which has attacked it
had been caused by my hands

I watched it suffer
felt pity
and smashed it to death
under my foot

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heatherburns35's picture

broken glass

Everyone has some broken glass in their lives. This is an interesting poem to say the least.
but I can feel your flusteration. You are an excellent  writer...heather

jimtwocrows's picture

Cauterizing regret, I wish it

Cauterizing regret, I wish it were as easy for me, my friend. peace.