mirrors
This heavy mind this morning struggles to force the movement of my fingers.
This world has wrecked havoc on my soul. I can read everyone's mind, but I can't tell what they're thinking. I can feel the enormous amount of energy weighing on them, but I don't know if it's because of me. I want to be naive to any negativity that might come my way, but I don't want to be surprised if they come at me with words that feel like fists thrown into my stomach.
I am only a child in a woman's body. I'm full of good intention and love, but my soft armor is nothing compared to the wrath of those who wield power over me. I am a failure in the eyes of society, and victorious in the eyes of those who intimately know me.
Or, so they say I'm victorious.
Self-awareness is a trickster spirit holding up various kind of mirrors to reflect back at me. I weave through a house of those mirrors. Some are true, some are tarnished, and some are distorted.
And so, my mission is to bring a rag and gently wash those tarnished mirrors. I examine each one, and decide to throw out the ones that make me look wobbly and odd.
I hold the true ones and gasp to find someone who is beautiful. My lips part in awe as I catch sight of the strength in her eyes. There is stillness between me and my reflection. We hold our gaze at each other until we blink, and we remember some far away time when we were whole. I'm on a great journey through treacherous land, and I search for that wholeness again.
I set the mirror down and move onto the next.