The Glass Ceiling Cannot Be Mended
(On the Emergence of Kamala Harris, July 2024)
“It dawned upon me with a certain suddenness that I was different from the
others…but shut out from their world by a vast veil.” W. E. B. Du Bois
The veil drops, the glass splits open and we can see and hear,
if only our idea if it and not the thing itself.
The veil drops, the glass divides and we detect the faintest echo of the
music of the spheres.
The veil drops, a voice speaks through some saintly messenger
or child’s laugh.
The veil drops and we recall that Light persists through cracks in walls
that we have built.
The veil drops and our skin tingles with the knowledge that has been
suppressed: the glass ceiling cannot be mended.
The veil drops our head turns slightly. Did we just see the Sistine hand
point also to the one that ate the apple?
The veil drops and now we see a face within the flower, a rose within
the hand, and it is face to face we see,
and it is our face that we see.
The veil drops and we stand still, as splinters fall, transparent now,
revealing all.
With each clear shard we know ourselves, remembering
who we truly are.
The ceiling is in ruins and cannot be mended.
© Copyright Linda Beatrice Brown
July 31, 2024; revised Aug. 6/24
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