Broken Glass and Marred Sunglasses

Broken glass at our feet

It held so much retreat, it held so much for the future

Broken glass at our feet, liquid and life, spilled and splayed and thrown and strewn

Broken glass at our feet, picking up the pieces, getting cut, getting stressed

Can’t pick up any more today, maybe tomorrow, or the day after

We know we have to pick it up

And put the liquid in something safer

Tupperware will do, this pitcher over here will do, that bowl over there will work

We have to pick it up sooner or later

You first

The marred sunglasses on our face, what we used to see down the street and out of the city

Broken and bruised, scratched and confused

So we put them on the kids faces