I’m a firm believer in a shatterable glass ceiling.

And before you ask

No.

I haven’t shattered it yet.

 

In fact I haven’t even seen it yet.

Haven’t come close to its heights

 

Haven’t come close to its incubatory translucence

Which apparently works like an oven

So no woman even thinks about coming close to it

For fear of being burned like she is every day by her oven at home.

 

Haven’t come close to that ceiling,

But I’ve heard stories.

 

Horror stories of the backbiting ceiling which works to hold women back,

Works to keep her in a culinary submission

Only liberated to reach the highest blinds which need vacuuming.

 

But one thing above all haunts me.

 

As far as I’ve seen,

Ceilings don’t have feelings.

Ceilings don’t laugh in your face

Ceilings don’t pin you down and take your lunch money

Ceilings don’t take pride in keeping you inside.

 

You can look through the glass and see what the sky has to offer.

Look through the glass and see the stars and sun and moon staring at you.

And ya know what,

You can stare right back at them.

Or you can walk through the front door and see them unobstructed.

Walk through a door

Superwoman through a window

Mrs. Claus up a chimney

Or take a freaking shoe and Alison Ernst at the ceiling.

 

See in person what the world has to offer.

So, yes.

I’m a firm believer

In the power of doors windows chimneys and shoes,

And in the weakness of glass.