I can see the broken pieces of myself
shining back at me from where you stand.
You are a magnetic charge,
holding all of those pieces there to reflect back at me.
I can pick the beautiful, complex pieces from the rest.
They are the warmness,
the compassion still left in me.
But they too are severed from the whole.
The ugly, broken bits
are the parts I try to keep my eyes away from-
like an ugly scar or deformity
you are supposed to whole-heartedly ignore.
But they glare on:
I see them there on your sleeves begging to be faced.
They hold the demons there, the bitter scars of wars I couldn't win.
I want to gather the beautiful sea glass pieces of me
up and leave the rest behind.
I want the next time I see myself shimmering on your skin
to be a gallery of the good and beauty.
I want you to feel that grace from where you stand.
But the broken bits are too large-
I cannot be put back together until they are replaced.
Until then, I will be the broken pieces,
good and bad,
appearing whenever they so choose.
A walking treasure trove of the beauty of fragile hope
and the calamity
that comes with winning and losing that same hope daily.
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I was a sophomore at Winter Park High School when I wrote this poem. It really encompasses the beauty and sadness that results as we grow and go through difficult times. We often have to separate the parts of ourselves that are worth pursuing from those to be left behind. My poem "Sea Glass" is meant to illustrate this. Writing in challenging times was my own way of acknowledging what healthy progress is.