I was a cracked mirror

that Death punched until

the glass shattered


into a collection of fragments

which a lover cradled in his hands

until the sharp shards of who

the glass had become

cut him so deeply

that he dropped it.


Those shards lay there lonely,

afraid to let anyone else close,

but the Glassmaker reappeared.

He began to smooth the edges and

beautify what was broken.


Now one day, the Glassmaker will finish by making those shards

not only beautiful,

but whole.