Broken Mirrors (Poem)—WhisperShade

(DISCLAMER: I am a Christian so this is my view of salvation. There’s a whole bunch of metaphors in it, if you believe something different, I understand. Please don’t be mean)

Human souls are like mirrors.

Fragile, broken creatures

Whose shining beauty, shattered by a Fall.

The tumble cracked the glass.

The collapse cut the smooth surface into

Sharp, jagged fragments.

Dark lines marr the reflection of a Perfect Image.

Chips, shards, fractures.

Each carry a distorted illusion.

Sorrow, anger, malice.

Each hidden within a fake silver coating.

Appealing, but dangerous.

Filling the cracks with crumbling mortar.

A swift feeling of triumph

But they once again crash and fall.

Chipping away, sharpening pointed edges.

Too broken to fit in the frame designed for us.

Not strong enough to stand.

The Glazier looks at the crystalline mess.

Compassion and mercy in His gaze

As they drift over His shattered,splintered creation, waiting to be discarded.

Instead, He walks forward.

Our silver shards cut his hands.

Our shining fragments pierce His feet.

Each wound, its own river of red.

Bit by bit, He puts together our broken pieces.

Sticky with blood,

Until every shard is in place.

Each one in the frame.

Wiping the glass, He polishes, shines.

The Reflection, no longer clouded with imperfections.

No longer muddied with dust and cracks.

After a lifetime of work, He stands back, marveled.