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Posts Tagged ‘reflection’

The Reflection

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on March 31, 2026| 6 Comments »


 
It was late evening. I was sitting on the couch, the purple one my husband made, when I felt the small tickle traveling from my forearm to my wrist. Not wearing my glasses, I held out my arm for my husband to look. “What is it?” I asked. “A tick,” he said, his voice flat, matter of fact. He pinched it in his fingers, then took it to the counter and crushed it with the bottom of a water glass. I had had a good day, listening to a woman speak about how she could still be compassionate toward her mother after years of abuse. I had gone to a dinner in honor of my husband for difficult work well done. I was proud of him and said kind and true things about how I had seen him grow. The skin where the tick had been continued to tickle. In fact, I felt the light prickle of tick legs walking on almost every part of my body. I had to take everything off. I stood in front of the mirror and saw what wasn’t there. No tick. Nor the body I once had. It was not easy to look. I asked my eyes to remember it is possible to say something compassionate, something matter of fact, something true. 
 

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Reflection

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on July 13, 2022| 5 Comments »



In each other, let us see ourselves.
            —Alberto Ríos, “Who Has Need, I Stand with You”


Sometimes when I look in the mirror,
my eyes see only my own reflection.

I forget to see the eyes of my mother,
and her mother, and her mother.

I forget to see the eyes of my sisters
who live in other towns, other countries.

I forget to see the eyes of my brothers
who teach, who fight, who rule, who beg.

I forget how my heart is fueled
by the same electric impulse

that drives every other beating heart.
I forget how my skin is made and remade

from the same carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen and oxygen
that comprises every other human’s skin.  

Oh, to remember. Not just when I look in the mirror,
but when I walk down the street.

Not just when I feel drawn to another,
but also when I feel defensive, averse.

Oh, to remember the strange and certain math
that seven point seven five three billion people

equal one cohesive expression
of what it means to be alive.

Your hands, my hands. Your breath, my breath.
Your eyes in my eyes. My eyes in your eyes.

This life, ours.

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Reflection

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on December 21, 2018| 2 Comments »

 

 

We are the dust that sings.

            —Art Goodtimes

 

 

She has learned not to trust the mirror.

When she is not near it, she’s beautiful.

Here, in firelight, she knows herself

as one of many stems in an enormous

bouquet, all of them lovely. And in moonlight,

she shines along with the rest of the shining world.

And in the longest night, she is the dust

that dances, dust that sings, dust that knows beauty

everywhere it looks, inside, outside.

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