The Glass Borne

By Julie Makhoul

She rises through shards of silence, 

A goddess etched in trembling light, 

Her limbs spun from solar winds, 

Her gaze an ancient twilight.

The glass sings pink with memory, 

Purple with aching grace, 

And teal like deep sea secrets 

Tucked in the folds of space.

A cathedral of myth holds her shape-

Haloed in spirals, crowned in flame, 

tattoos turned radiant hieroglyphs 

That whisper every forgotten name.

Her hair flows in symphonic waves, 

Comet strands and cosmic chords, 

A unicorn etched on stained glass 

Skin draws breath from dream-bound words.

Each pane of her being holds stories: 

A phoenix reborn behind the ribs, 

A sword wrapped in blooming roses, 

Strength cradling where sorrow lives.

Planets orbit behind her frame 

Like silent witnesses to her glow, 

And the stars bend gently in reverence-

As if even constellations know.

She is the hush before dawn opens, 

The resilience curled in broken things, 

The song the soul dares to hum 

When shattering becomes wings.

By Julie Makhoul