I feel my color wither and decay
My cracks screaming from their smooth charade
Knowing, and dying, from drinking this poisonous lie
That I am fine, even if all those who love me will bleed and die
Everyone in this world are shards of glass
Too afraid to smooth their jagged surface, even as time moves so fast
Far too alone to lose a shimmery, single part
Too insecure to give color into another’s heart
And we will never know that our jaggedness was meant to be surrendered
To be given to others, burned, but eventually tendered
By the hot flame of Him, He who fixes us all
Into a blessed stained glass, where we finally understand that into His hands we must fall
By: Regina Maricich ’29, Classics Editor
29rmaricich@montroseschool.org
