A Poem a Day (579): Shatter

 
I wrote a first draft of this poem last night at about half-midnight just before going to sleep. And I've posted it on JD Mader's writing blog - click here - so if you fancy writing or reading other people's writing, head over there for a scribble. You can also find out about JD's writing and his cool books. He has a kind of melodic rap in his writing style. The poem below is the second draft and a bit longer than the original. Have a groovy Saturday.

Shatter
 
We are but the darkest glass,
prisms turning, starkest shine,
and here in glass we reside.
 
We taste the bitter-sweetest salt
of the surging rush of sea below
and cloak ourselves in the cyan eyes
of the stillest tranquil sky above,
view laughing dolphins arching loops
over these aching oceans deep
with scarlet love, and we ourselves
are but glass, cut-outs spilling ideas,
a realm of secret colour undefined,
steadfast, yet ever breakable,
our fragility misting our acumen.
 
Stones could shatter us,
and yet we dwell beside them,
knowing how brittle are our bones.
 
The collector gathers memories,
new and old, spectres breathing in grey,
mirrors of all the things we have lived,
all the facets that make us human,
our passions, our guileless empathy,
all so steeped in hue, in so fragile words,
and yet we can never be forsaken
to one another. For we are, in our minds,
as we are, purest glass.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, April 29, 2023