Cracked Windows


 The window I look through
at you
is cracked
and gives the impression
that you are divided
into two people.

The crack reminds me
of your two selves:
one for other people
and the other, a private self,
you keep well hidden.

 The glass in the window
has been cracked for years.
I can’t remember the first time.
you looked out at me,
or I looked in at you.
All I remember
is my image of you.
As someone who had
Experienced a great trauma.

It seemed to me that
somehow, you had
figured out a way to be happy.

 You smiled and told me,
“I don’t think of myself
as a happy person.”

I have stopped walking
down your street,
fearing who else
I might meet.

 By George Snedeker, Ph.D.