3 Poems by Ruth Anne Garcia
Broken glass, drifting in the air, spilling all over the tile flooring. Swept up and discarded in a bin, never to be saved, put back together.
No matter the significance, size, beauty. Glass is powerful and cuts like a knife.
Vision of a beautiful mosaic painting, the glass shows a side of beauty, grace, and intrigue. In a single moment, an object thrown, glass breaks.
The once beautiful image, is now nothing. Disappeared, no longer thriving. Gluing glass back together is pointless. Too many pieces to puzzle together.
No one has the time to put it together, to figure it out. Instead sweeping it up and discarding it, becomes easy.
The discarded glass no longer holds the beauty that it held, and the image is not fixed. It is replaced and not re-created.
Glass is simple, graceful, and full of promise. Bend it, shape it, give it room to grow.
If you smother it, or break it, the illusion is gone forever.
Drowning, sinking, disappearing. The quiet becomes more desirable, and the sound too loud.
Heading in the right direction, or wrong depending on the point of view. Red, white and black are the
colors emitted from the air.
Time stands still, then spins forward, never constant. The day’s blend together and are less clear. Vision blurs and images start to muffle, no clarity.
Day is done, but goal is set. Good times could come, if the mind was open to it.
The mind wants openness but remains closed. Tendency to move forward is far and in between.
The future is not mapped out and is unset.
Who is this person that is masked by this shell that covers her? The shell is broken and bruised, tough and impenetrable.
Underneath is a resemblance of the person she once was. Each time a tiny sliver of light shows through, the pain and fear engulf her and she’s shielded under in the abyss.
Fighting to break through, but having no strength and no hope. Banging, knocks and attempts to break her out fails, she clings onto her legs pinned to her chest and hides in fear.
Fear of being hurt by another person, fear of letting someone in. All she’s known is the flooded abyss of her life, and no matter who tries to wash it away, it remains.
Eyes shielded and body bent she continues to hide in the corner of her mind, unable to allow change. Staying in this position is a known, if she stays like this she can survive, even for a short time.
If she drops her hands and raises her head, there could be consequences. She could get hurt yet again, she could be pushed into the abyss further and further.
The darkness could spread and she could be left with nothing, so the attempts to break her out are useless. They are useless but she clings to them.
The thought of being pulled out and lifted up from the darkness and into light, is a strange comfort. A comfort that is unattainable, yet desirable.
For now, she hides and she listens. For now, she stays and she clings to the tiny sliver of light that cracks through once and awhile. For now, she waits and she tries not to be swallowed whole.
Ruth Anne Garcia is a wife, mother, and student. She is an unpublished writer honing my craft. She resides in Las Cruces, NM where she is majoring in Social Work. She may be found on Twitter as @WeirdWordist, on Instagram is @ruth5anne4 & on her Facebook page as /rgarcia5545