I am a Mirror [poem]
I am a mirror
reflecting every
whisper which you’re most
afraid of in your self —
the feathered touch of
freedom’s fickle fibres’
lusty
chime of bells
I am a looking-glass
shattering all dreams
in which such false hopes grow
and flimflam sham schemes glow
in boastful stardust
wasteful-minded
truth-rejecting
thunder-gust
I am a shadow
you see me coming
so you close your eyes
like a little child
who thinks she’ll not be
noticed
by the morely wise
{running away from
your naked[ness] friendship
in Fata Morgana
your refuge you find.
Always your moving
hides the illusion of
movement
(so beauty-blind)}
I am moonbeams
modestly shineful
powdered mountaintops
rain discreetly over
secondhand hills
I wish with heartland feel
you’d thrill
to more than hidden
I am a lantern
reason twistly tells you
how to share the light
but something old
resists and fights
like whales against
harpoons
slice through the waves
I am a river
in which you put your toe
a death-throes testing
overflow of touch
in which it proves too much
for twice burned once-shy
drive by
dino-soars
I am a prism
through which your lightbeams
grudgingly convert themselves
to shaving foam
on the face of fright
then whiskered off
despite
your smooth objections
What is your fear?
stand still
and see your broken self
as strong and clear as
starlings in the snow
then shall we see
each other
for the first time
.
.
© Alan Morrison, 2014
The Naked Troubadour 