Mirror, Mirror

I've had some lingering thoughts and questions floating around my mind for a few months now and knew that I had to express them somehow, but I also realized that there was only one way they could be adequately voiced. So, in a manner most uncharacteristic of me; I wrote a poem. Yeah, ok, you can stop laughing now. No, really, that's enough! Because it's probably pretty hard to guess at the right rhythm just from reading it, I added a recording of it so you can listen while you read (but you gotta quit laughing first). So yeah, enjoy!

Hear It

When I look into the mirror,
what is it that I see?
Is that truly my reflection?
Is that dirty image me?

But “I have come to realize;
I’m not what I seem.
This image that I’m looking at,
has now been redeemed.” (1)

Why then is my image tainted,
when thus it has been cleaned?
Can it still be dirty,
and yet still be redeemed?

Perhaps it’s not a mirror at all,
perhaps I see a window,
that leads beyond this world’s veiled wall,
into an unreal echo.

An echo of a life not lived,
an alternate reflection.
Of one who’d never turned around,
or asked for new redemption.

Who then is this growling face
that snarls back at me?
Who then haunts this mirrored space?
One hoped he’d never see…

I’ve always wondered who you’d be,
but never thought you real.
I’ve always claimed immunity,
the mirror a protective shield.

Now my shield hath betrayed me,
or the mirror hath been outwitted.
For now I look and find I see
my Doppelganger here sitteth.

But now you choose to haunt me,
from mine own side of the mirror.
Though whether you be friend or foe,
as yet remains unclear.

My Tiberius, have I found thee?



(1) “Mirror, Mirror” Stephen Hinkle, Moved To Praise