Living in My Glass World
This is a very long poem inspired by as song that a friend played called 'River Flows in You" by Yiruma. For some reason it made me think about glass, so... yeah. Enjoy!
As I look
through a glass window,
Staring up
at a glass sky
Thinking
about all these glass people
So much
glass…
Some glass
things are broken or chipped,
Other things
are stained glass.
Still others
are pure crystal.
All glass
things tingle when they break…
Tears are
just pure crystal.
But do the
tears of glass people really fall?
Do they make
out of those pure glass eyes?
Do the tears
of glass people really exist?
When those
glass tears fall,
They tingle
like the sound of a broken heart.
As I watch
those tears…
I feel it
too.
The clouds I
stare at halfheartedly
They are
glass too, I know.
The rain
that falls
That’s
glass.
I am just a
broken glass doll.
I live in a
broken glass world.
A world of
broken glass tears.
And broken
glass hearts.
It’s gray
here.
Gray and a
shade of sterile white.
The light
that comes in is too bright.
And I feel
so small.
Nothing is
green in this broken glass world.
No hope,
No color,
No life.
I am black
and white.
I am made of
glass.
I am lost in
this broken glass world.
Floating
with the tears.
All these
stained glass windows
--they are
broken.
I broke
them.
Not on
purpose, but with tears.
Each tear is
heavy
And breaks
glass.
But truth
being told,
Just the
clink of a hand is all that it takes.
All that it
takes for one heart to break.
All that it
takes for this broken glass doll to leave tears in her wake.
Tears that
are glass and cut down her face.
So all that
you see is the canyons they carve.
And all that
you hear is the soft weeping sound that they make.
In this
broken glass world, it’s so hard to believe
That I’m
stained glass.
Pure, chosen
and clean.
When all
that you see is in grey and in white,
Canyons of
broken glass tears
Lost hopes
and lost dreams.
And all you
can see is made of glass.
I feel like
an impostor.
Like all the
other things that are glass are better.
Like they
aren’t as chipped and broken.
Like they
are better than me.
As I walk
through my glass world,
I meet the
Master Glass Blower.
He is doing
what he does best.
Blowing
glass.
“Master?”
I whisper in
my tiny glass voice.
“Why do
you keep creating?
Can’t you
see everything is a mess?”
“Why
don’t you just start over?
What
you’ve made—was good
But now
it’s broken.
Just fix
it now please.”
“When
you’re done,
Then you
can get done with your creating.
You can
start fresh!
With a
clean new slate.”
“That
would be better I think.
So that
the new glass things wouldn’t have to live here.
Here with
all us broken glass things.
It’s just
better that way.”
The master
glass blower smiles.
“Don’t
you worry child.”
He says with
a grin in his eyes.
“I know
what I’m doing.”
“Behold.
I am making all things new.
These
broken glass things—they are not too far gone.
They
don’t have so many cracks that I can’t fix them again.
I am the
Master Glass blower—and I know what I’m doing.”
“You see,
I sent my son.”
When the
Master speaks of his son,
It is
heartfelt I know.
Because of
the tingle in his voice.
“My son
came to save all my glass creation.
I knew
that you where all broken and chipped,
So I sent
him out there to save you all.
Out of my
great love for my creation—I sent him.”
I look up at
him,
With crystal
coming out of my eyes.
Not sure
what to say.
But feeling
the canyons they carve.
“Master,
I’ve heard that story.
That was
so long ago.
It was
saved then!
But now
it is not.”
“There
has been more broken since then.
More
pain.
More
times that your glass things have fallen.
We don’t
fall pretty you know.”
“The world
was probably stained glass then.
It was
probably beautiful and clean.
But now
it is not.
It’s
broken again.”
“Now it’s
dirty and gross.
It’s
broken and chipped.
It
doesn’t have purpose
Other to
cut or to bleed.”
My thoughts
sounded silly when they came out of my mouth.
They sounded
tingly and scratchy.
When the
master talked,
It was
strong and commanding.
“Behold.”
Said the
master.
“The old
has passed away, the new has come.”
“Put your
faith in me—for I am making all things new.”
With those
words.
Spoken with
power and passion.
Spoken like
a loving creator,
I chose to
believe.
Before my
wandering eyes
--as if
shades where lifted.
As if I had
once been blind but now I could see--
The world
was made new.
Not just a
little new—but all new.
The dirty
glass floor was now a golden hue.
The grey
skies where now made of diamonds.
The Sun was
now actually shining.
I looked
down at my hands.
They weren’t
chipped—but full of color.
Made of
things like amber
And clean
pure crystal.
In the
strangest of ways,
My faith
changed my sight.
I once had
been blind,
But now I
can see!
I once had
to manage a dark little world,
But now I
could see.
See the
stained glass in everything
And the hope
in the morning.
I could see
the vivid colors,
Each morning
sun brings.
The pinks
and the purples,
And how it
rises on wings.
I can not
only walk,
Now I can
fly!
And not only
that—
I can soar
like an eagle.
I now have
hope.
I now have
peace.
And I know
now the truth.
All is
being made new.
I just
needed faith to see it.
Hope to
believe it.
To slow down
and speak to The Master.
Now I know.
All is
made new.
~Rachel Joy
