A Poem: Cracking

I am cracking open
so I can be sea glass,
turned into mosaics.

I am being cut,
laid out to dry as petals,
colours retrieved
before they’re spent.

I am being run down
as mown grass,
to become a stretch of emerald green
where birds arrive for worms.

I am a vase on a window-sill,
its beauty in the way it captures
the light of foliage and bud,
the way it holds itself out

like an offering.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
September 2020

2 thoughts on “A Poem: Cracking

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