formed a pile in my heart,
contributing to the thickness of its walls.
The glass door on the wall of my heart
showed in clarity the qualms outside it.
I watch on, reveling in the calm
behind sound-proofed glass doors.
The atrocities had no medium
to transmit into me - I remain safe
The glass doors were in my heart,
in my eyes, in my face, in my being.
Light makes it through triumphantly,
without refraction or dispersion.
The glass door shattered
when a wolf knocked on it.
Ever since I've been trying to fix it,
but the next knock was not far.
I painted it with a woody texture -
the hue kept away unsolicited noses.
The glass door
oscillated, creaking gently
to the heaviness.
Someone has been thrown out
once again with a bang.
© Sana Rose 2020
Written on April 24th, 2016