Pierced

September 9, 2012
By CK310 BRONZE, Monsey, New York
CK310 BRONZE, Monsey, New York
4 articles 0 photos 11 comments

Favorite Quote:
"It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what your not" ~Kurt Cobain


It stood, magnificent
adorning the brick wall
the vast mosaic
the glow it possessed
a natural blue beauty.

At dawn; pink rays of mist
filtering through the glass
to bathe the room in softness
the pale light waking her
as it danced across her sleeping face.

At noon; the sun high and proud in the sky
beamed with all its might
and as it passed through, to greet her
little rainbows shimmered through the
fragments, still held together
up on the wall.

At dusk; as the sun retreated into the ocean,
as its’ fire melted away
the sky echoed pink and purple
little wisps creeping in
she clutched with small fists
trying to grope the magic of it.

At night; with day’s power gone,
and the moon shed it’s light peacefully
she stared up at it:
it’s vivid red, blues, and greens,
echoing off the floor and walls
in its’ simple beauty.

A thought flashed across her mind-
quick as a bird on edge it was gone,
flitting around in her head for further thought.
To touch the beauty, feel its’ cold hard splendor
beneath her palm.
To gaze beyond the glass; to picture the wonders
it showed her every day,
though she had never seen it beyond the vast
wall.

She glided over, as if in a dream
and with her fingers, bleached white from the moon
she brushed across the glass, its colors painting her
hand red, green, blue.
In a heartbeat, a thin crack broke the silence
and a tremendous smash shook the room.

Glass rained down in millions of glittering pieces,
she threw her arms up over her head,
but it could not stop the shards from piercing her skin,
and piercing her heart, once she had seen what she had done.
The blood and tears flowed as she looked down
upon her own horrified face,
distorted among the broken painting.

The magic was gone and a chill took the air.
No more would morning mist wake her
would daytime rainbows greet her
would evening skies please her
would nighttime colors adorn her.





And as the tears of sorrow
snaked down her cheeks
and the blood of pain shed freely
she sat on the floor
still faintly vibrating blue, green, and red.
She sat among the glass
pierced.

But with her eyes lowered she
barely noticed the new and unfamiliar
light descending upon her face,
she felt the familiar tickle of dawn,
but stronger.

She raised her chin and blinded she was
as she stared wide eyed at the broken wall.
A new world right here,
where the magic took place
exposed and entire
in all it’s glory.

Basking in the milky mist
the smell of dew and the twitter of birdsong
the babble of the brook and the whisper of trees,
the sun timidly peeking over the mountains.
She had opened up a new world of magic
real and alive, new and true.

And the tragic, beautiful glittering glass
for so long her closest companion
has taken and distorted it from her
had locked and barricaded her away
from the true magic.


The author's comments:
This is a poem/short story I made up about a girl who lives alone in a small room, the only connection she has to anything is a large mosaic of painted glass. Each day the mosaic brings to her the beauty of the outside world, distorted through the glass. The girl thinks it's the most wonderful thing on earth because she knows nothing else. One night she touches the glass and the entire thing shatters, the mosaic and it's beautiful shows are gone. At first the girl is crushed, but then she looks up to find what her beautiful glass had been actually hiding from her the entire time.

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