Glass People

You stand upon a platform

Entombed in stark white light

Sinewy arms uplifted to cry to God;

Held up to blaspheme his name

And the light from heaven shines down,

Illuminating the pale facets of your face

As your jaw cries out to waken sleeping man.


From afar I watch, enraptured and enthralled

As you glide, appeal, destroy a thousand nameless faces.

From this I cannot turn

And instead I float, I flit, I fly to circle about your head

And admire your lovely face.


And then to me you gaze and smile,

Your grin gracing your face to touch your eyes

As your lips caress the air

Forming waves that ripple across your ocean of admirers

Haunting and seducing their lucent, vacant souls.

But as I watch, the sound falters and sighs

And closer I come to see:

The cavern’s carpet is but dusty papers,

Filled with lines from songs, from plays, from time—

Ones you gather and repeat to ease your broken soul.


If I return across the stage, you shall forget my name;

Your smile was not meant for me,

But there was never need for it to be.

Still your lonely heart aches and yearns

For arms to hold and hands

to strip away the glass embedded in your face:

Shards silent and seething from the ancient mask you donned

To confine you to yourself.


You glance my way and the glass glimmers like the rain

And I wonder what you would be like

With the courage to tear the pieces from your face

And for your tears mingle with the blood

And darn your rotting heart.


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