The Broken Shell

Who are you, he said, where is the princess I have known
And she sighed.
He was right. She no longer waited for the prince
but became the energy that saved herself instead
and the only problem with that was
that life had lost some of its magic
in the process
and she had not found the way to put it back.

Who are you, he said, where is the sparkle of your words
And she sighed.
Where she had once read for the pleasure of the nuance
of language and the feeling it evoked
she read now the story that she knew
and life had somehow followed suit
in the process
and she had not found the way to put it back.

Who are you, he said, I can hardly see you
And she sighed,
pulling herself out from behind the many layers
of blinds, shutters, curtains and stone walls
that had at first felt so protective
and now stifled the light
not only in the morning but the afternoon and night
so that life had lost its glittering stars and blistering sun
in the dusty process
and she had not found the way to put it back.

Then all at once a hatchet swung
wielded with strength and precision
until the shell was cracked and broken
and again and again
until she reached out to touch him
until love cracked the outer barricade
that hid her heart
and she found the way to put it back






From the Box
- 2010 Darshan F Jessop