This Is Not An Apology

August 6, 20172 min read

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.

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Amihan Macaria Ildefonzo Redondiez

Just a city kid striving for social justice and a pothead with a passion for poetry. I was born and raised in San Francisco, but I am currently pursuing Gender/Women's Studies at UC Davis.