The Glass I Did Not Break

Today, I broke a glass.

I was holding it in the grip of my hand

which I thought was firm,

until it slipped.

My mother heard the clash and scolded me,

pointing out how reckless I had been.

Yet in spite of her reproof,

she still told me not to make any move.

She ordered me to jump onto the nearest couch
as agile as possible,

without stepping on the floor;

because she was afraid that my feet would step on the pieces of broken glass,

sharp enough to make me bleed.

Later, she picked up the mess I made all by herself

while insisting that I should not even bother helping,

as it would involve the risk of danger and pain

—and she doesn't want me hurt,

at all.

At that moment, I knew.

I knew that you were the exact opposite of my mother.

Unlike her,

you were always prudent with your sweet words,

as if never disagreeing with anything that I do.

I thought it was because you loved everything that I did,

that you wouldn't mind

even if I dropped something off my hand,

like what I did with the broken glass. 

But it turned out that

you wanted to see me hurt.

You wouldn't care
if the pieces of shredded glass cut my soft skin

and let piles of blood burst out through the wound,

or if I don't have any shoulder to lean on from the mess I made.

But then again,

even if you had lent your shoulder,

I doubt that I would lay my head on it;

for you were the one who made the mess in me.

You didn't break my glass,

you broke my heart;

leaving me with its edgy shreds,

slivering me inside out. 

Bloody, now I am.

And as how hesitation is present
every time I take a glass now

and be very discreet when holding it,

so will I be when it comes to both

seizing and handing my very own heart. 

A promise, I have made to myself;

that I will guard what I have left

with all that I am.

I broke one glass already,

and it should not take more than that.

I will not let any other glass fall off my grip,

let alone something much more fragile than it:

my heart. 

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byvelvet Fall/Winter 2016: Mind Over Matter

Fall/Winter 2016 Collection on byvelvet.com

Filmed by Cindy Octaviany

Scripted by Livia Nathania

Video I — Intrusion

Narration:

Footsteps.

aligned with the melody of her thoughts. 

Burden.

Of the upcoming drudgery that awaits.

But there’s a touch

of the elegance within her.
Up she goes,

or in silence she sits,

seeking a clear state of mind.

The sight of her eyes,

the embrace of her hand

and the entirety of her presence;

all, a reflection.
Always making an effort,

stepping up, although tired.

Time running after her,

but she stands in hope

with a stare of confidence.

Mind over matter. 

Video II — Fraught Silence

Narration:

The sun still shines,

and the time still ticks,

and there she sits,

stirring the cup of tea in her hand;

while her mind,

still, pondering. 

A treasured spot

in a favorite place.
In a place where a thousand attempts

have been made,

and wishes set upon the invisible stars

but none of it could bring her

to the visionary paradise

she imagines. 

Disturbed.

Drops of tea wasted.
The tea,

uncontrollably, spills.

Shocked, she is.

The intrusion has consumed her, 

but where to escape?

Mind over matter.

Video III - Tranquility

Narration:

A door.

Leading her to a room of nothingness.

Walking through

an open space. 

The wind breezes,

erasing her doubts. 

Time keeps ticking.

She keeps thinking.

Clouds move,

raindrops fall,

water flows,

pages turn,

and leaves grow.

No track of task,

no track of time.

Her mind is cleared.

Finally free,

she is.

Tranquility,

she seizes.

Time, 

she cherishes.

All

of the worldly matters

withdrawn. 

Time is in her hold;

with peace,

alleviating her.

Every fold of her cloth

turned into swirls,

in a state of calmness,

like never before.

And so, she knows:

mind over matter.

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