The Mirror

Do I reflect the truth?

Or do I distort and refract in a way                        

that only makes some who look

not at me, but into me, frown?

A glance or a stare makes 

all the difference. 

I’ve been with you 

since your beginning and since theirs.

I’ve been passed from generation

to generation, hand to hand,

house to house. Your first steps 

were past me in the hall.

You looked at me 

with no recognition 

in your eyes. 

Time passes, I stay the same.

You change, grow, thrive, but that 

comes with a price. You look

into me now, see yourself,

see your eyes and nose,

and your ears and your mouth.

You tug and stretch your skin

in distaste. 

I want to yell at you.

I think, Beautiful! Beautiful!

What beautiful hues of pink and orange

your skin glows in my face, the 

shades of brown in your hair, 

that shine red in the tinted light,

the way your eyes sparkle 

iridescently. 

It’s no use.

I can’t see what you see.

You will go on, and I will follow

eventually, you’ll learn.

You’ll see what I see

even if you don’t see it 

in me.