Tuesday, March 1, 2011

With Love, Mirror

You come to me like clockwork and stand before my face
I know you're every move and each curve of skin you trace
I watch you in the morning as you search my glass for truth
Yet all you see are lies of hate and beauty claimed by youth
You visit me each time you pass to stare at your reflection
A look of sadness in your eyes; belief of imperfection
I've watched you grow to woman, and I know your every curve
Your face of joy now hollow as you measure and observe
I long to see the little girl delighted by my power
For all I see are vacant eyes: loathsome, flat, and dour
You show me facets of yourself that only She has seen
Marked by insecurities and caught in dark routine
I wish you saw your spirit, reflected in my face
You judge yourself by image, denying love's embrace
My glass holds many secrets and whispers of your fears
My surface has been scorned and been kissed by shameful tears
You torture her in front of me; I wait in silent prayer
I watch as you surrender self and crumble in despair
You're losing in this vicious game to god of deprivation
I hope one day you see in me Her loving revelation
Reflection real and without flaw, perfect in its size
Naked and exposed to all through glass of truthful eyes
-C. O'Connell-

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