My body was open
my mind was open
my heart and soul were broken,
a kaleidoscope of disparate pieces
that had fractured
then been laid back down
in a stain glass pattern,
running shades of red,
a picture of all I’d been through.
You gazed in
I invited you to worship within,
you said we weren’t the same
that you weren’t pure yet—
but neither was I.
My walls were caked with blood and tears
evidence of nails
like tire tracks
imbedded within the walls
where I had clawed my way out of the darkness
to see the light
shining through the glass
that was always patched up then broken.
It didn’t matter to me that our creeds were not the same
I just wanted to sit with you as we compared beliefs
as we figured out where your pieces and mine could overlay
to create a beautiful mosaic of mismatched ideologies.
Caia Rose 