The Chandelier

Hanging by a thread,
so fragile,
ice for blood,
hot blushing from within,
trembling like the shimmer
of a chandelier:
Sun-bleached light
trickling down
in cascading fractals,
winking with the promise of Noah.

An ethereal song slumbers
in each cut crystal
waiting to ring out
into the black night;
a twinkling token
taking up residence
among celestial bodies
to herald a birth
of Hope.

The chandelier weeps
as light streams through it:
A river blinking back sunshine,
then plunged underneath
to the green silence of
time suspended without breath.
Restored again to dove song,
crystal rivulets rain down
in a baptism
of Peace.

Broken glass
pretending to be fine,
each fractured piece
as sharp as thorns or nails,
each edge threatening
an unexpected wound
in hands, in feet, in side--
Heart shattered.
Shards ground to dust.
A hole with no light--
Until with Gethsemane's tears
All is Redeemed.