Lantern Fish

A Poetry and Travel Blog

Vessel

I sit on a windowsill,
Praying to whoever can listen
That a storm doesn’t knock me over,
Because I’m scared of the fall.
Oh, I am barely just holding on,
Sitting still, waiting where I’ve always been
On top of my windowsill.

Oh, I’m barely just holding on
No, I don’t want to fall.
I may be made of glass,
But I can’t look within me
To see what I am made of.
Oh, I may be made of glass,
Clear as crystal but I can’t see
What I hold within me,
I don’t know just what I’ll spill
If I fell from the windowsill.

There are days when I feel empty,
But I’m afraid of what’s inside me
I’m afraid of losing it all
If I ever were to fall.
I am only a vessel,
Clear and brittle as glass,
Unsure of my purpose,
Unsure how long I’ll last,
Wondering why I come across these thoughts.

Maybe if I just shattered,
Let my contents all scatter,
Maybe I’ll know what I’m worth.
Maybe I’ll finally see what I hold.
I hope it’s something beautiful,
Something worth its weight in gold,
Something that I can be proud of.
Suddenly I’m not afraid to fall
If it can tell me what I’m made of.

But I am only a vessel
So I’ll have to pray for a storm
To break through the windows,
To push me off the sill,
So I can see what I’m made of.
I am no longer afraid to fall.
But it appears my prayers have been misread,
For it was not the storm who answered them.

No, they were answered by a gentle breeze
Who opened the window with a silent creak,
Just enough to let me look in her glass
And see my reflection looking back
Still unclear and still a little hazy,
I could somehow see what was inside me-
Some ugly, some pretty,
Trinkets and memories
That meant something to someone.

Yes, I remember her,
She smiles at me sometimes,
When she searches for answers she can’t find,
When she looks for a childhood she’s left in the past.
Perhaps you don’t always have to break
To see what makes you who you are.
Perhaps sometimes all it takes
Is a memory of a smile, and a kind sheet of glass
Perhaps we don’t have to be hard on ourselves
When we can’t find our purpose,
Because sometimes a misheard prayer
Finds its way back to us.

                                                                  -m.k.

M.K.

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