Saturday, June 30, 2012

Broken Glass

How do hands glory of broken glass
I do not understand
Parading in care as if you were
Holding something grand
There was a time in what you offer
Was more than just my breath
It was what you've restored in whole
It was all that I had left
And now you stand and apologize
With believable sincerity
I see red stains upon your hands
You should place them on your sleeves
Sit and study each broken piece
You will find your reflection
Symbolic of what I remember
Times of coldness and rejection
Question if you have the strength
To assemble what you have back again
You will find impossibility
To your answer in the end


Racquel, Founder
Artist's Square
www.artists-square.com
~A Place Where Artists Go~

5 comments:

  1. Very deep and well thought.. Wow

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  2. Thanks for a great read! http://www.rubbishservice.co.uk/

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  3. An intriguing poem symbolizing relations that were I reckon. I am reminded of a poem of one of our greatest poet Faiz, its first part after translation will be:
    You after collecting broken pieces of glass
    Are hiding them in the front cloth of your dress
    There is no messiah of glass
    Why are you waiting for one

    With best wishes, Racquel.

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  4. Wow... I love your writing and love the comments as well. I wish I could put into words what I put into love. The world would fall hard as they do for you!

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