Tinted Tales: A Poem on Glasswork and Precarity | Thursday Verse No. 1

  In all that is shaped and seen, somethings are quietly unmade. I wrote this in recollection of my childhood walks to the church every Sunday morning. I used to pass down a lane of glassmakers, whose craftmanship were reflected in every glasswork. I remember the mornings, the shimmer, the spectacle, and the silent stories that existed in the spaces between each piece. 

  This poem is about the quiet subjects that are always left off frame. 

Tinted Tales

Sheets of glass 

cut and carved,

by cutter in the commands of the master's hands,

With screeching bites of its spinning disc

curves and lines it perfectly split

and lay on the counter

tinted shapes of crystals.

Into the rigour of sand and polish

came out an art of skill

put together, on display for glory;

There, on the floor

lay excess of the whole —

bruised shards,

turning dust.

- Mercy Rebonica