We met through a window

with the most dismal view –

 

everyday peering

through filthy glass,

waiting for

the moment

a peek of color

might flutter

by on hopeful air.

 

I’d nearly given up

on the window –

 

its cracks

too deep,

its panes

too obscured

by layers of

filmy residue

left behind

during neglectful

years and

thousands of

salty tears

shed amongst

the slinking

shadows hidden

between rays

of penetrating

starlight.

 

And then on

a typical day

of chronic

disappointment,

risking a glance

up toward the

hazy view,

I was greeted

by two orbs

of sage

staring sadly,

quietly,

knowingly

back.

 

Everyday I returned,

compelled by

curiosity and

comfort to

seek refuge

in those

deep pools

of dark pastel,

 

everyday feeling

less alone

in a world

where things

are broken

that cannot

be mended,

 

where years

of pain surface

as evident scars

that only the

scarred can see,

 

where love is

still possible

after a beating

heart is torn

bleeding from

its chest,

 

where two people

can seek refuge

from a polluted view

by finding completely

weird beauty

in each other.

 

 

Renee Novosel

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Copyright 2014