This distorted mirror is unkind
Defining bulges and sags
and closer, the lines surrounding
Dull dark-ringed eyes…
No prize.
Feeling bone-tired
Feet mired in sickening sadness
Wondering why, If my joy exists, it hides
Feeling heavy, rotten, like a fruit
left too long on the vine
And then a whispered voice
dear child,
you’ve been too long away
and forgotten what you hold inside
a finger’s point on my chest
traces a line to show
where to unzip this flesh coat
I let it fall
and free of that weight, I rise
lithe as wind and clear as rain
above locked doors and unwashed floors
with whirl and flip through roof, I join the sky
My God,
what a foolish sojourner am I
to forget my soul needs
no reservation
to fly
And then, with retrieved memory, I dive
Back into my coat so warm and fine
And now, remembering to look for the sparkle
in those eyes, motherhood imprints in those sags,
the cost of wisdom in those lines
the mirror never lies
but it can’t tell truth
mere reflections can’t hear whispers
or feel the stretch and turn
of lofted quintessence
within
Gold trophy winner
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