Firefly Healing, LLC

Posts tagged ‘reflection’

Projections

Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons

 

Looking through my reflection in the bus window

trees falling away as the highway catches up

one stump in a tall grove draws my reverie.

Eventually I am arrived, uprooted from musings on whether my side table

because stranger things have happened

could be made from that displaced tree and then

aren’t we all connected in a vast network of unseen coincidences,

lonely me and lonely tree.

 

Standing in a dark tomb in Egypt

they show us how mirrors bring sunlight into the tunnels.

Itchy sweaty coconut sunblock cipro college class trip becomes suddenly

the newest audience.

It cannot be thousands of years since

my feet where the artist stood

my body memory projecting the brushstrokes

and I am still

with the hieroglyphics

as if they were my own.

 

Taking the pearl earrings from her shaky hands

because no one else wants them

and she will be dying in a couple of days

white hair, white sheets, white pearls.

If I mention the snow outside

I can bring in the brown and gray of the parking lot slush.

There I sat, with in-laws soon to be out once the papers are signed

her own daughter hasn’t talked to her in 40 years of widowhood

granddaughter either

and we both know these fake pearl earrings

are all I’ll have to remember her by but

I will.

Leavings

Wikimedia Commons (Creative Commons)

 

I thought I could leave him

behind. Even the times I came back

I thought I had a choice

 

And I did. Like an animal in a trap

biting off its own paws…

I left

 

Behind shadows, still

I see him. In new timelines

deeper than fear, I feel him

in my body involuntarily

twitching, teeth  locking, shoulders

guarding. Hollow eyes

empty of illusions

 

Wearing new masks for new

people, new audiences

for the pretense

that this all will

be okay

 

For the kids

echo him now

blaming me for it, me

for being strong enough to leave, me

who gave up

everything

 

Mirroring my pain, voices yearning

for love that could not ever

be enough to fix

a broken reflection

of mercurial walls

 

But I will be

enough. I have

to begin anew,

woman in the looking glass.

 

Silver in my hair and

reticence in my eyes and

limping, I am leaving

more behind

each tomorrow

Writing in Bones

“Vanitas” Michael Conrad Hirt, circa 1630 (Public Domain)

 

Fossilized footprints, books

Placing my self inside another’s imprints

Close enough to touch the marks

the writer left

in time

 

Connect with creature through created

One-way mirror, darkened back

One either sees

or is

reflected

 

From the forests, page by page

The words are thrown into the sea

Wanderers find that they were seeking

kinship bottled, opened

keening

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