The Mason jar full of broken shards…
its translucent-jagged pieces haunt me,
their aching-angles are dangerous
they shine so brightly, deceptively.
This vessel is hidden in plain sight
beneath our bed on my side for sleeping,
it resides beside the wood of corner post.
I can see it, bed skirts won’t conceal
I feel its looming presence long into day
and I know that you will find it soon, too.
Such shadows of past are sure to find surface.
This hesitant history is hating on me
teasing of telling, spilling truth and blood.
Thick red and gnashing slivers will surge,
cutting deeper and deeper with time
but inevitably every splinter pushes out
finds its way to the light of reconciliation;
causes one to turn their entire world-
inside out, to face the Light and Truth.
It was always there, plain for the seeing.
© Hannah Gosselin and Metaphors and Smiles, 2012