Broken mirror,
Where has my reflection gone?
A hundred pieces, sprawled
amongst the woven carpet.
Scarlet flow from fingertips,
blends with woollen fibres.
What should be painful pricks
are numb, as the attempt is made
to gather the shattered pieces.
Laying them before me.
Trying to make sense of
the jagged debris.
Each one should fit soundly
against another, but they don’t.
There is no order to the
reflective mess before me,
only crimson smudged chaos.
And as a light filled glint
sparkles from the shards,
blinding me for a moment,
I finally find my reflection.
It is broken and distorted,
Just like me.
Written by
Lyla Arthurs
May 2007
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