That day
Her glass castle shattered in to a thousand pieces
A white flag and a deep exhale the only signs of life deposited on her shore
Today, sweet textures of love and story paving her road
All the broken pieces of glass forming her humble mosaic of whole
The past, unnecessary conceptual overlay that dampens a genuine soul
If you seek her, present is where you will find her spirit in solid hold
Her heart open, held in tender and worn hands
On a seldom rainy day in quiet blink she remembers a once diluted way
And that precious moment it all went astray
All the colors that arced her darkness and light
The silhouettes and shadows that broke her one unannounced night
You don’t need to confirm with her the strength you see in her dark eyes
For it was in the clarity of her weakness when she realized how deeply she was cut and bleeding
That Day
She came to understand it was the simplicity of her own honor and love she was truly needing
~Alisa Hutton
I must say its coincidence that both of our post has tittle about “that day” and trust me your Work is lot better then mine the beauty in pain of your writing was on whole other level. Loved it honestly.
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It is:) Thank you very much, such a kind compliment.
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Loved this one, wholeheartedly. Greta work. 👍👍😊
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Thank you, so much xo.
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Love this, A ❤️
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Thanks, Rita xo.
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Thanks, Diana.
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Alisa, I love how you tell the story of this strong woman who has endured the shattered glass. It is seen in her worn hands and strength in her eyes. She is like many, but she survived. Keith
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Thank you, Keith. I always like the concept/visual of the fragility, sharp nature of glass but also the beauty in that. The breaking of something that creates new.
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