Death Dance of Falling Light by Janet Elliott Brown

I'm not the person that i used to be, although her memory still exists. I'm nothing less, vaguely more. It feels like I am darkly colored in tones of earth and shadow. Through  broken windows, off shards of glass, the evening sky catches the glow of streetlights as they free fall in swirling pandemonium. One might catch a glimpse of me that I used to be. Who really knows if  she is the real me. Could it be, that only now am I the person I was born to be? Momentary reflections of the one I want to be, like particles of lights are bouncing about as if riding on the feet of dancing fairies. Just spheres of light sprinkling trails of  color all around me.

Once upon a time all those drops of color and light formed the picture of me. The picture of me that I see. If only I could see me now, whole and fine. Instead I flicker and gently fall growing dimmer as I float in circles slowly vanishing.

To others, the stillness inside me appears as a beautiful looking glass. They don't see what's behind the polished mirror. The reflections and the smears and tears that have fallen, salty yet sweet.