Poetry

The Mirror

The mirror stares at me.

I can see, it its minds eye,

a flat girl-

a 2 dimensional woman

without

any kind of substance,

any kind of flesh

beneath the bare bones

of a reflection.

I am mirror hard

and brittle as glass-

my expression

threatens

to crack as I breathe

air into my lungs,

and I seem to shimmer

as I think.

The shadows

under my eyes will

never stop deepening

if I remain here

like this, staring

at this flat image.

Eyes fill with tears,

and I long to tap

the glass,

to see if it will break.

It doesn’t look

like it would be easily moved,

it’s impression seems

entrenched-

But who knows what a mirror is

thinking,

who knows its intention

on my impression.

I struggle to imagine my veins

my brain,

my middle name.

I am more than this-

I know I am more than just this.

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6 thoughts on “The Mirror

    1. Thank you so much πŸ™‚ Yes I liked the idea of presenting an image of you, seen by a mirror, and the implications of that. I tend to worry much too much about how other people see me and are affected by me. Can you imagine a world without mirrors?! Anyway, thanks so much for your comment, it means a lot!

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Definitely, I also think mirrors are an important point of reflection. It is really only when a child is able to first recognize themselves in a mirror that they are able to understand that they are an autonomous individual being. So maybe a world without mirrors wouldn’t be so great after all. Thank YOU for writing!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Yes.. but then I start to wonder about people living hundreds and thousands of years ago, who likely never would have looked in a mirror! How strange and different their thinking must have been, and their way of relating to the world. It always gets me thinking.. Thanks for your support and your comments πŸ™‚

        Liked by 2 people

      3. I have a post about Neanderthals in the pipeline… one that looks at what thinking actually is.

        You will have heard the stories about the primitive tribes in the jungle, who, when shown a photo of the tribe, found one person they couldn’t recognize…

        Determining the level of consciousness in a person is an extremely delicate job. Someone I know gives lectures about the spiritual world; she asks her audience “did you understand that?” I don’t need to tell you that they all say “yes, we understood you!”

        The problem is subtle: did they understand her, or did they understand what they could understand of what she was saying ???

        Like

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