Bent Yellow

it wakes
her slumbering body
even before it hits the floor,
even as it seemingly suspends itself
before any echo is ever heard.

it breaks
slivers of bending silver
in the single yellow beam
over the floor,
the down-fallen shards silent a time frame later
waiting to be swept back up
disposed of and left to be thought of as broken.

she only stares at them, unmoving
waiting just the same
defying every command telling her to
clean up the fractured reflecting pieces,
clean it and wash it and fold it
neatly back into place
as it should belong.

such is what stops her:
the reflective pieces reflect her
unblinking eyes that betray her
unblinking state
and fragile soul that barely can hang on
any longer
or, just as much, even simply know how to.

dangling dangerously, fraying.

time passes, the sun sets
rises again
and the wind whispers its
breeze through leaves of gold and brown.

life goes on, an infinite circle.
but even the sun is just fire
and fire can always be doused,
and so the sun too will cease to shine
and the yellow beam no longer be there
to reflect the broken shards that
allow her to really see.

but things don't become whole
just because they cease to be visible.