Broken Glass

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 30, 2018

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Submitted: September 30, 2018

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Broken Glass

 

She was young when she stepped on the broken glass for the first time and felt it bite into her feet. A child, not prepared for the pain she was experiencing and not understanding why it was happening. She was too young.

 

For many years, she would cry out as the edges pierced her soft juvenile flesh, leaving behind a bloody hallmark to map her steps. She tried stepping lightly to ease the pain, to draw the pressure away from her wounds.

 

There were times when she tried to ignore the pain, to pretend the glass wasn’t there. She had seen the way the others walked; strong and proud, never looking down, striding out with purpose. But as she tried to walk as everyone else did, she found herself brought to her knees, willing to do anything to stop hurting.

 

As she grew in age and perspective, she tried to see the shattered fragments with the eyes of an artist. There were times when the sun would catch on the pieces of shattered glass, and in those moments, the sunlight created a glowing halo of rainbow light around her, so that even the blood added to the beauty. Though still, it cut into her.

 

In time, she learned how to bandage her feet with bands of white cloth to shield herself from further damage, but the glass that spread wide in her wake remained ever present, standing at attention, waiting to cut her wrists and hands into tender red ribbons any moment she stumbled and fell.

 

Then one day, she dared to peer down, and in doing so, realized that the glass could be shifted. At first, she started pushing it aside with her hands and for once it seemed to work, though she bore a myriad of new scars to add to her collection of old wounds. Then she found a broom and began sweeping it away. Sometimes people would help her shift the glass, and sometimes she had to do it by herself, but slowly, it began to disappear from the path she wanted to walk.

 

In the end, she would continue to walk down her path, now clear of obstruction. Her victory would remain forever etched into her skin; a herald to those who pass her, and a testimony to her own enduring strength.

 


© Copyright 2018 Alexandria Stein. All rights reserved.

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