(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
It must have been scary
to be my mirror,
to hold up that image
to me,
afraid I might mistakenly
see
an unseemly, unloving
visage of you.
It must have been scary
to be my mirror,
after we’d come
together,
afraid I’d misconceive
a vision of some other,
not of abandon, but fearless devotion,
a loving reflection of me.
It must have been scary
knowing I might misunderstand,
confuse your honesty for disdain,
love’s trust,
you knew,
could be lost
should my vision be unclear.
It took courage to reflect back to me.
Love’s courage, its belief
has let you be my mirror.
When I faltered one day,
I said, “I can’t.”
“If not you,”
you said,
“then who?”
And you held up that love-mirror to me.
**Objects in the mirror
are always closer than they appear**
©Janet Mitchell, May 2012. All Rights Reserved.
