As I was on the bus the other day I saw glass shattered all over the sidewalk. Noticing the sunlight glistening against the many pieces I told my sister, “It’s kinda poetic that glass shines even prettier when it’s broken.” I then came home and wrote this poem about my own shattering and my own beauty.
I’m sorry I wasn’t as pretty
as the waves crashing down on me
It’s hard to view your own beauty
on a beach that is only visited for its ocean,
never its sand
I’m sorry the pressure of wading feet
was too forceful for my fragile lungs
See my father has smoked cigarettes
for as long as I’ve known
I’ve been suffering from second-hand suffocation
So I’m sorry our fire extinguished
the little liquid strength I had left
The separation of my parents already soaked up the rest.
And I’m sorry my anger
melted me to the core
I didn’t mean for yours to warm too
I’m sorry it hardens when cooled like mine
I’m sorry you never really knew me
My transparent body prevented intimacy,
my insecurities a glassy screen
I’m sorry that the sun beams only passed through me.
I’m sorry you grew impatient
I know physical changes
take long, I thought you did too
I thought you knew the passing of phases was constant.
So I’m sorry I only acknowledged
our fire as destruction
I now know that it has served as creation
a transformation of my core elements,
Through the smoke, I’ve stayed leveled and
became whole by being broken.
I’m sorry you didn’t realize
glass illuminates
more radiant
when shattered.
