Sunday, April 03, 2005


I wrote this in my late twenties - just found it as I was cleaning out computer files. Was trying to figure out who I was, what I wanted, where I was going - all the typical stuff. In searching for myself, I fell in love with another, or so I thought. I later realized, this person had qualities I was searching for, which later led me to myself. What I thought was a loss was a gain.


I walk about the grocery store in my town
realizing how different I am or hope to be
or maybe not
maybe I am just like all the other women here
I am only deceiving myself.

Maybe I am the woman in old jeans, tennis shoes, and outdated shirt
with three dirty kids whose only hopes are in a Saturday night at the local bar
not missing an episode of Days of Our Lives or Oprah.
She knows she is nothing without her husband
she can go nowhere, be no one.

She finds happiness in a cigarette, junk food,
or maybe a new couch or trip to Las Vegas.
If her man is happy she is happy
for a while
then her limitations in her reality remind her of all that she isn’t.
She begins to complain that he never takes her anywhere
she thinks she means a chance to leave this town
she doesn’t know her asking is to leave somewhere beyond herself.

Am I so different?

Its hard to see the contrast in a room of grey
whose mirrors have many layers of dust
accumulated from years of storage.
I cannot find my reflection.
It is tainted when I do catch a glimpse.

I had a favorite mirror once
but it has left me now
I broke it with my anger and frustration
my isolation and loneliness
I pounded on this mirror to give me the reflection
I desired to see.

I longed for that image I held deep within
of who I wanted to be but could not
seem to find or see.
I stared blindly and foolishly into my mirror
forming half truths and blurred perceptions
waiting for my mirror to confirm.

But the mirror could not lie.

The weight of my soul
began to push heavily
still searching for a deeper look
somewhere possibly beyond the surface
causing my mirror to burst
It could no longer withhold me.

I was left then
with a collage of shattered pieces
that clarity seemed impossible
to find amongst-
Where do I look now
what have I done.

I gazed upon the brokenness
the loss and disrepair
in many angles
searching for a view
that fit my sight
depicting any form I could.

Suddenly the mysterious image grew definition
and within its confines I discovered
that which I had sought for so long
that which I had looked upon so many times before
that whose familiarity made me look past
and that which caused the careless destruction
of my favorite mirror.


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