The Mirror of Myself
A poem.
The Mirror of Myself
Many shun the mirror
hating it as if it were a living entity.
I, on the other hand, am obsessed with it’s possibilities.
What better sketch of her could I have?
Isn’t it her face that mine is half of?
I have stared long & hard
memorizing each feature, the curve of the brow
the very pattern of pores
spotted here and there with sun freckles
hoping to have instantaneous recognition when I meet her.
Yes, I will meet her, I know this in my soul.
But will reality reveal the lie of the mind’s mirror,
that I am her & she is me?
Will I find that I am my own person and
have been all along,
only needing validation that I am myself?
When you look into a mirror, what is reflected is eternity,
relinquishment clouds that
an arrogant silence upholding the greater good slowly binds it.
I want to see, will you help me?
