Glass Gallery

Location

Everyone is a gallery in a glass room.

The display cases and shelves are thick glass,

And every aspect of who we are is glass figurines-

Fragile glass figurines.

We keep them packed up tightly,

Hidden away in storage and boxes,

For a glass room is fragile,

Very fragile.

Every shelf that breaks,

Every figurine shattered,

We don’t have vacuums,

And dustpans always leave a trace.

There’s always a small pile of broken glass bits

Clear in the middle of the floor.

It’s the things we can’t fix,

The aches we can’t cure,

The cracks and crevices that make up our skin.

It’s the things that we’ve been through,

The things we can’t let go,

The things that have hurt and always left a trace.

 

Come into my gallery,

Take a look around.

The shelves are bare,

The cases empty,

But stick around and I’ll show you

All the things that make up me.

Stick around and help me sweep

All the bits off the floor beneath a carpet.

Stick around and you’ll see the true me.

I’ll let you in with my single key,

And if you step carefully,

Don’t rattle the glass,

I’ll find a spare somewhere,

And share it with you.

 

Unpack my figurines with me,

Set them out on the shelves,

Display them for the world to see.

Take a look at who I am,

Flawed, broken, hidden,

See my imperfection,

View it as a gift,

View it as beauty.

 

Take a look around with me,

At all the beautiful displays,

Take a look at me.

Smile and laugh,

Admire and cherish,

And share your gallery with me.

 

Take a stone with you,

To see my gallery,

Take a stone with you,

To see how fragile I can be.

Make a single toss,

See how alike glass and dominoes can be.

Make a single toss,

And you’ll no longer see me.

 

Leave my gallery,

In broken, tiny bits on the floor,

Take my dustpan with you,

I won’t need it anymore.

Leave me be,

In my shattered self-gallery,

I’ll use my hands, you see,

To pick up the shards of what’s left.

I’ll use my hands you see,

To clean up what’s left of me. 

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