Mirror

[This is the showcase poem for Poemvember.  I first got to know Shanda early this summer, and have enjoyed getting to know her and reading her extraordinary blog at The Upside Down Pastor’s Wife.  I thoroughly enjoy her poetry and I’m excited to share it with you today. Enjoy!]

 

I stand before the glass. Haunted.
The reflection is a stranger.
I slide quivering fingers over the slick smooth form touching cheek, mouth, eyes.

Hollow eyes stare.

I try to pull away hoping for escape from the thunder this glimpse has released in my soul.

Stranded.

I panic. I lunge.  I flail.
Arms move frantic to change the picture before me.

It remains.

I pause to look deeper.
Is this really me?  It can’t really be me.
Yet, this soul reflector has captured my being sure and true.

Without warning, a single stone hurls towards glass.
The sound deafening.  The mirror shatters.
I bend over shards hopeless to scoop them together, to protect, to reassemble.
My image is ten-thousand jagged fragments on the ground.
I curl in a heap of shame.
Confused, broken, lost in a tear river that flows over my ruin of impossibility.

Sharp.  Shattered.  Desperate.
I am consumed.

Consumed with…
Ten-thousand pieces.

Held captive by the mirror broken, unaware the stone was flung to free.
A strong hand touches my shoulder.
I am drawn by His warmth, but I can’t break away.

I am driven by…
Ten-thousand pieces.

Buckled under the weight of…
Ten-thousand pieces.

Swollen with fear by the wreck of…
Ten-thousand pieces.

Let go, daughter.

No.  Impossible.

Let go.

I can’t.

Let.  Go.  Look at me.  Let.  Go.

My eyes battle fierce to meet the Stone Thrower’s glance.  Locked.
I sink deep in  the shine of His eyes.
Ten-thousand shards are a million miles away.
All that matters I find in His eyes.
A new reflection.  All that matters.

Image.

His.

Free.

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