Glass Shadow

June 25, 2008
By Rose Schrott, Pittsburgh, PA

My glass shadow dances.
Through the hall it gilds,
Flamboyant and invisible.

Grand jeté. Pirouette. Faille. Glissade.
The closer it floats,
I lose the will to breath.

I turn to run,
Startled by the magnitude of my fear.
But can only stand

The blood of my fears
Dripping off my bitter fingers,
Forming reflective pools

A pounding
Babum Babum Babum
My heart
Babum Babum Babum

Eyes open to a sea of tall grass.
Sunrays racing their way through.
The beat of the wind pounding my head.

The grass performing its tribal dance,
Welcoming home an outsider.

The razor edges kiss my cold skin,
As I seep deeper into the ground of my ancestors bones.

While my glass shadow stands above me,
Painted in the blood of my innocence.

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