The glass was cold, the church was dark, and Christmas only mocked. |
The Glass Was Cold The glass was cold and streaked with rain The droplets beading like tears of pain Outside the air was frozen still And in the warmth hung a bleeding chill She searched the room for a gleam of hope A memory or smile with which to cope But the shadows blocked the white-washed walls And lay reminders of her falls She drew the curtains one by one Choking the bottle with her thumb Her fears were soon to be erased With the life that she had come to hate She sat on the bed afraid to leave But ‘fraid of slipping through the sieve Again, and living one new day Only to cut her heart away Her breath was coming in pangs of ice She cursed the strength that wouldn’t suffice Her feet got up and walked away From the bottle on her jacket laid Her eyes peered through the frozen glass To watch the world once more to pass The wreaths hung on the doors like ropes Waiting to hang the wearied hopes The Christmas lights flickered on and off The trees stood tall and seemed to scoff Toward the emptiness she hid inside The blackened deaths that wouldn’t die But down the street from the joy façade Light went extinct ‘fore a house of God That for years had limped with jubilee Blessing poor, depressed, and dead to be She paused; For the crooked cross, under the moon alone, Her imprisoning pain seemed to dethrone The nails at the ends of the warped old plank Seemed pierced for the sin in which she sank Her face grew warm despite the doubt Hot, stinging tears touched her open mouth The salt was salve to the wounds within It felt like life pinching her taught skin And a singing sound met her tired ears Coming from the room of the hallowed bier The church was filled with a joyous chord Despite the light it could not afford But just like that warmth disappeared Leaving her empty of the cheer That had quickly passed; she woke from the dream Only memories left like a soft moonbeam But memory was fine to her anxious soul And the cross still shone like a smoldering coal She glanced back to creeping ghosts at the wall She reached down, grabbed her coat, and let the bottle fall |