Kaleidoscopes
Posted by Heather Kelleher
The distant chime of shattering glass shards
resonates sporadically in her ears
as she imagines how the broken wings
of a lunar moth might sound.
Morbidly, she pictures fairies and nymphs
falling – floating - lightly to the forest floor
in the crest of their demise.
She nears the now slivered glass and the
whole world turns an astonishing white-
the glass reflecting all sources of light,
making it too bright to see a thing.
In her blindness, she begins to crawl
on her hands and knees,
causing delicate slices on
her palms, shins and kneecaps.
To the potential observer, it's just a
white canvas with smears of blood red
chaotically painted with too much feeling.
But for her, it is the climax of an
unraveling crescendo that has defined her
journey and ruptured her psyche.
In the prisms, she finds herself catching glimpses
of someone she used to be and know,
as pastel stars dance twinkling out her eyes
and bounce against the padded walls.
The distant chime of shattering glass shards
resonates sporadically in her ears
as she imagines how the broken wings
of a lunar moth might sound.
Morbidly, she pictures fairies and nymphs
falling – floating - lightly to the forest floor
in the crest of their demise.
She nears the now slivered glass and the
whole world turns an astonishing white-
the glass reflecting all sources of light,
making it too bright to see a thing.
In her blindness, she begins to crawl
on her hands and knees,
causing delicate slices on
her palms, shins and kneecaps.
To the potential observer, it's just a
white canvas with smears of blood red
chaotically painted with too much feeling.
But for her, it is the climax of an
unraveling crescendo that has defined her
journey and ruptured her psyche.
In the prisms, she finds herself catching glimpses
of someone she used to be and know,
as pastel stars dance twinkling out her eyes
and bounce against the padded walls.
This entry was posted by Ben Myers, on
Tuesday, June 27, 2006.
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8:54 AM
that, my friend, was awesome