Broken History

    Dreams are the privilege
            of those who sleep—
    Sound and restful moments,
    But I don't sleep.
    When I close my eyes,
    Light gives way to darkness
            and in the darkness I hear
    The slow and deliberate cracking
            like glass shattering
    The echo of clanking and tinging
    As the pieces of my heart fall to the floor
    I need the Light to find all the pieces
    The heat of its fire to melt them back together.
    But I never get it back the way it was,
    There's always a blemish
            a missing piece that just wouldn't fit.
    And the fire...
    Remnant flames that won't go away—
    Can I channel the flames into emotion—
    Make moves, start a revolution?
    Or will I close my eyes and dream.
    Photocredit: Unsplash.com/Toa Heftiba
    Published on Tuesday, September 26, 2017
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