most never see past
that wall of windows-
which keeps me isolated from the world.
these prime panels painted upon
with swirling patterns of waxy film,
random panes of glass covered by newspaper,
some stained with beautiful colors,
boards of rotting wood nailed to the frame,
the frantic and feeble attempts at reinforcement
that secure nothing...termite provisions.

i stand here in perfect stillness behind the fragile sheets,
just above the brick on the floor,
bare feet bound and bordered by bits
of brittle barriers broken long ago.
tiny fissures splintering in all directions,
the consequence of life's sticks and stones

from time to time, a shadow catches my eye
or the menacing crackle of twigs
unable to silently bear the weight of intrusion.
my attention becomes unfocused, crouched low
slowly shifting the windows to my soul
left...blink
then right...blink...blink
and left again,
as his shadow grows, the tresspasser draws nearer,
inspecting, searching, watching....
take warning - those tiny shards barely clinging to the inlay
will slice the innocence from your brow
leaving you, bleeding and dirty faced,
penance for pressing your presence upon my person

your quick glances and darting eyes are fooled
by self reflections - irregular and therefore unflattering
though there be this translucent partition between us,
your vision remains opaque, weak and
muddled by the cataracts of society
at present, you are incapable of peering into
this porthole to my soul,
so expertly sealed and concealed,
but perhaps, one day your mind's eye
will recognize my secret skylight-
molded together from tiny
unrelated molecules of sand,
heated by Hephestus,
delicately designed, and waiting to be shattered
into something new...
refracted visions
of a broken life in need of adornment