It is difficult to judge
a situation,
from a house of glass,
shingled in conscience
and heated by sensitivity.
Where the horizon is clear and
a mind blooms
with brilliant spring colors.

It is difficult to see
inequality,
through the pain of glass,
separated by chance,
and fractured by compassion.
Where the agony shafts through and
a mind cries
with the world’s jagged suffering.

It is difficult to free
encumbrances,
sheathed within the glass,
strong yet madly cracked,
and coated with fearful tears.
Where opposite thoughts must combine
in a mind, already,

infinitesimally fragmented.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 2/24/03