Those moment's of impending transformation.


I’m stuffing all the sheets in the machine
When, reaching for the detergent, I strike
A gentle, glancing blow against a glass,
Which topples and then smashes on the floor.

A curse is gently breathed, and then I stoop
To bring some healing back into the day.
Then I slice my thumb on a sharp shard,
And pull back quickly-cursing once again.

Struck then by the nature of this glass-
This new glass of a hundred razor shards;
None could hold a drop of the dark blood
That even now is leaking on the floor.

This glass is nothing like it used to be;
Not vessel, container, chalice or cup.
This glass has embraced chaos with a crash-
A moment of transformation has just passed.

As if a sign’s been written in the sky,
The essence of the moment is revealed-
Just as the glass is falling-does it scream:
‘I did nothing wrong! So why me?’

Or does it smile into the falling day?
Knowing no power on earth can intervene
Beyond the hit and miss.  It sings, ‘I go
                                                   With all my glassness! I say yes to this!’