Glass

Imagine yourself,

Holding a piece of glass.

Precious,

Beautiful,

Fragile.

You love this piece of glass.

You cherish its soft shine.

Perfect.

Unblemished.

You hold it softly,

Gently,

With a sweet caring,

A tender love.

But no matter how much

You care,

No matter how much

You try,

It breaks.

One day, that precious creation

Is taken from your hands and thrown.

Or slammed out of your grip

By cruel reality,

Or maybe it just…

Slips through your fingers.

That beautiful work of art

Lies shattered at your feet.

I held my glass.

My heart, my soul.

Glossy and clean,

Brightly colored, clean,

Softly reflecting the quiet light

That shone around me.

I held it gently in my hands.

And then…

It slipped through my fingers.

It… slipped through my fingers.

My life lay shattered at my feet.

Broken in to a million pieces,

Blood staining the colored shards.

I was hopeless.

Never to be complete again,

Never to be a beautiful whole.

The small part of me still intact

Wept.

For what I had lost.

Innocence.

For what I had become.

Broken.

And though it seemed impossible,

Very slowly… carefully…

I began to put myself back together.

Gluing shards

With any shred of love

I could find.

It took time.

A lot of time.

But eventually…

The glass that lay shattered

Began to take a shape.

Not the same one it had left.

Similar, but…

Missing a piece here and there.

Blemishes,

Stains.

And most of all?

Cracks.

Those fine, thin lines

That showed where pieces fit together.

A reminder of being broken,

Never again the same.

Those cracks…

Those cracks are scars.

And there are some on my heart,

And some on my skin.

And now again I hold my soul,

Between shaking hands,

Terrified of dropping it again.

Terrified of losing it,

Having it taken,

Or broken by… reality.

I cling to my scarred and cracked life

Because it’s the only one I have.

I can never have a new piece of glass.

It needs to be treasured

And loved

Just as much as it was before.

Imagine yourself

Holding a piece of glass.

Love it, because,

That is the most beautiful thing you will ever hold.