The beads of simple, tinted glass:
Between each one the links of loss.
The music of their chimes when touched:
The glittered schisms, splitting light.
Each facet shines with bitter dreams.
Each angle cut betrays a past,
A slight, a trap, a loveless chill,
And yet a life which always was.
The threads which bind are rarely seen.
Beneath the beat, a universe;
Between the beads and solid earth
The scattered force of freedom’s cost.
The grief which comes with cutting loose
The bluest segments of the sky.
Response to the film Three Colours: Blue.