Stained Glass
Victoria Gossum

there is suffering
sunken into each frail wall of his aching
house

one carefully constructed by wooden boards,
rottened and aged by streams of water emanating from the hearts of
the        broken.

there is anguish
weighing down on the tin roof
warped and caving into itself,
encasing its arms in welcome
around him
               while
pressing downwards with vengeance on the back of his neck
until he no longer responds to affliction
​
when he forgets who he is
he will rupture his soul
and take pride in tearing each cell in his body
               apart
to reach
               to touch
his memories
made soft pink
               and running scarlet
down his back

he makes them raw again

he will crawl desperately to the
mirror
tracing his fingers along the broken glass of silver,
finding beauty in each pattern he encounters
               finding beauty in each patch of discolored skin

spread throughout his body
he opens his arms to the world and smiles
at the man in the mirror.
​
he is his own creation