Shatter, poetry by Vickie Johnstone at
Stephen Irwin



written by: Vickie Johnstone



We are but the darkest glass,
prisms turning, starkest shine,
and here in glass we reside.

We taste the bitter-sweetest salt
of the surging rush of sea below
and cloak ourselves in the cyan eyes
of the stillest tranquil sky above,
view laughing dolphins arching loops
over these aching oceans deep
with scarlet love, and we ourselves
are but glass, cut-outs spilling ideas,
a realm of secret colour undefined,
steadfast, yet ever breakable,
our fragility misting our acumen.

Stones could shatter us,
and yet we dwell beside them,
knowing how brittle are our bones.

The collector gathers memories,
new and old, spectres breathing in grey,
mirrors of all the things we have lived,
all the facets that make us human,
our passions, our guileless empathy,
all so steeped in hue, in so fragile words,
and yet we can never be forsaken
to one another. For we are, in our minds,
as we are, purest glass.

Latest posts by Vickie Johnstone (see all)