Broken Crystal

In a house with glass walls
and eternal night, my body
plans its escape. There will be
trauma, sharp cuts, bruises
and loss.

I will emerge empty
yet unburdened.

There will be no mirrors
to offer illusions, no doors
locked and bolted. My world
will be essence and wings

and unfiltered light.

But when I leave, in a small
marble pouch, a souvenir of
broken crystal to remind me
how souls survive despite,

despite.