I bought a piece of jewelry – it was broken glass
reheated into a shard.

    Some pink, some gold, some black glass…

    It had been broken by an artist’s hand,

    Then fused again in a furnace at a thousand
    plus degrees.

At the air terminal, about to fly home,

    I removed the small gold heart necklace I was

    Its gold metal and pink stones went into my

And I put on the broken glass pendant,

    My long waves caressing the leather band,

    As it sat on white skin above a black blouse.

I turned, and I saw the shard in the mirror,

For a moment, I think, perhaps I saw

    The Artist that had broken so much,

    And His hand that was so willing

    To forge a new jewel for His crown

    From broken glass.


With love to the Artist of Heaven
that works with broken glass;


(c) Copyright Caryn LeMur 2005
The Collection of Short Works,
Letters, and Poems
Broken Glass
I wrote this short piece in July of

I still think highly of the Artist,
don't you?


Broken Glass

I flew to visit two friends, and
found …

    The first… bitter over
    abandonment by her last

    Tired of stunning women that
    would not greet her;

    Wondering if life had a
    purpose for an aging woman
    once male;

    We chatted over Viet cuisine
    and rice.

The second left alone by wife and

    Forgotten by the closest ones
    as she completed her surgery;

    Crying at times and laffing at
    other times;

    We wandered in some stores
    with a third that came to visit.
In Deepest Sympathy -
Poetry for those that grieve
Building Faith, Hope, & Love -
Stories and Writings
A Cup Of Cold Water -
Letters For The Thirsty
A Pause In The Forest -
Poetry for thoughtful moments