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Broken Glass House, a True Tail

Wednesday, October 22, 2008
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Recent poems by SARA WEBB QUEST
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           >> View all 25

Iím a baby, so they didnít want me,
But they didnít care enough to set me free.
They put me in a box
And poured broken glass over me
And now Iím buried, cut, and bleeding.

There are too many miles of broken glass above.
So when I try to dig my way out, I get cut again,
And my cry is so small, no one can hear to help.

But then I hear another cry
Over those miles of glass.
Itís not human, but it cries.
And it cries some more.
And I donít dare hope,
But just in case, I cry back.

Suddenly, some light comes in,
And then more
And then eyes belonging to a bloody paw
And a human hand
See me.

It is a dog and her master.
The dog is still crying
And I see why.
Sheís cut and bleeding like me.

Will they save me,
Or pour the broken glass over me,
Killing me?

The human hand picks me up.
Iím dead for sure.
It pats the dog.
And then they rescue me,
And that is the last time I live in my broken glass house.

The dog found me
And hundreds of other homeless cats.
But I think there are many more like me
Who are never found.

True Tail of Ginny the Dog who Rescues Cats
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Reviewed by Richard Bowers 12/12/2012
What courage to write. What courage to share. Thanks
Reviewed by Regis Auffray 12/4/2009
A thought-inciting and compelling write, Sara. Thank you. Love and best wishes,

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