
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