Into the Heart of Things

A poem and photos for anyone feeling vulnerable after the US election

Into the Heart of Things - Nov 7, 2024

I’d never heard of a glass frog before.
I thought she meant a man-made ornament
but no, it's a real living amphibian, 
with skin so translucent
you can literally see into the heart of it.

I’d never heard of a glass snail either,
but then I’d found one,
so incredibly tiny,
on an autumn windfall apple 
that I was about to feed
to a horse - 
rescued, kept safe;
held gently, reverently; 
photographed on my thumb,
on a leaf; 
gazed at in awe.

When I later inquired on the internet
as to the snail’s identity, kind strangers 
shared these names with me.

A few years have passed since then,
another November has come around.
Apples and temperatures 
are dropping once again.
Soon, I will awake to find a layer of ice on the wild birds’ bath.
Yesterday, I  awoke to a different kind of chilly climate,
a political one that solidified as I slept.
Reading the results online, my heart plummeted.

I know many people 
are feeling fragile,
exposed,
if not shattered altogether.
Broken hearted, vulnerable,
and glass skinned.
See through...
but not necessarily seen or valued.

During these times, 
we need to hold ourselves and others gently.
We need to reaffirm the wondrous miracle of diversity 
found in people, cultures, and the natural world.
We need to continue to cherish and protect the vulnerable -
the glass frogs,
the glass snails,
the glass humans.
We must look into the heart of things with compassion and honesty,
finding community with those who are willing to do the same.

And we must remember - 
even a small piece of glass 
can help ignite a fire 
of warmth, safety, and change.

Western Glass Snail

Same snail, so teeny tiny (likely full grown) on my thumb. Nov 2021

My poem today was inspired by the lovely Beth Kempton’s #tinyautumnpoem series, which suggests a ten minute time limit, no editing, and a word prompt for today: GLASS. While I wrote most of my poem in 10 mins, it wasn’t tiny like a micro snail, and I did spend more time editing it after that. It pulled me in, invited me to ponder and reflect, and to polish it more, like a piece of sea glass in the waves.

Blessings to you,

Lindsay