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My heart was a stained glass window
With vivid colors when the sun shone through.
It sparkled and danced and sang with delight
And I gave it completely to you.
You burst it into a thousand pieces
All jagged and sharp and small.
They cut and drew blood when collected
And I fear I might never collect them all
Though gently reassembled with caution and care
It never quite looks like my own.
The terrible cracks make the colors now dull
And the adhesive hardens like stone.
2002
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A beautiful piece to being destroyed and trying to rebuild - but never being quite the same. The extended metaphor fulfils it promise throughout this piece in terms of its purpose. Especially in the devastating last stanza.
