Adithyasena Bajoji Poet Free verse

Glass

Broken shards on her
Like a shattered sawblade
Stuck deep in her body
Deep enough to reach beyond
And hurt her "was, is and will be"
Yet she chooses the light reflected on her
Instead of her mutilated image

Glass on me , but-
Am I a sculpture in glass?
delicate to touch
Fractured just from the fragility
Or molten sand poured on skin
Like a bandaid
Covering my burned skin
Fragile or Masked
Wounded or not
I may never know 
Cause my glass never allowed me
To see myself as a whole

Saw meets me
For its reflection to see
Shards may dig her flesh
But the beauty in flesh still clear
She hugs me-
It hurts to share the shards
Like spears impaling both of us
For once pain was not only hers
For once I had real glass to blame

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Kim Rodrigues September 20, 2026 at 5:22 AM molten sand poured on skin… the last verse with its apt shards of glass. Well done, poet! Very emotive. ✍️

Alison A Smith September 20, 2026 at 2:07 AM A striking, fractured free-verse meditation on identity, pain, and shared intimacy. The recurring glass and sawblade imagery gives the poem a sharp physical presence, while the movement between “her,” “me,” and “us” makes its emotional recognition feel deeply human. I especially admire how reflection becomes both wound and illumination—beautiful, unsettling, and memorable.