Jean-Baptiste Greuze [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
in my car I catch my eye when looking back…
the hand mirror reflects harshly, critically, sparing me nothing…
not as forgiving as the mirrors in my home, gentler in the soft light.
In my eyes I see pain,
and I stare deeper,
nearly falling into the blackness
until I see a spark of hope and love.
If I could I’d break the mirrors
and shatter my reflection
and rely on what I know, not what I see
reflected in me.
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