Mirror Mirror on the Wall

If glass could talk, a voice for fear would raise.
Rearing up as Phoenix- like: A Transition cage
Looming, Barring their 'now' here on earth.

As solid sand is whole, so charming indeed
And so as broken, then becomes life's bleed
Glass's dainty shards share easily, much pain

I'm losing my point, so I will tell you square
We're dealing with them now, those barred are here
A survivor through as such, is no 'done- good' deed.

Now view my fairy tell, of glass and daughters-
Yet the violence could be to neighbors or fathers-
But a daughter is worrisome, for she is our mothers:

Rough and stumble are her thoughts
For she will look to the mirror lost
"I am fat, I am fearful, I am failure."

"I look to my faults, but admire in these to others"
But others know, they see into her fears' quaking covers.
But she has no care for their known, she has no family honor.

She is but a wild child, running the mountains
With triangles in her mind, tumbling again and again
On the planes of squares and rainbows

Her cage, Her Family, or Her… Who's going to lose?
Her cage, Her Family, or Her… Who's she going to choose?
"The Family"- but the family is her.

And she will lose- Unless she finds her way without a past
And Raises her glass, patched shards fulfilling her at last.
So charming in deed, and much less bleed.



I write this poem for a dear school friend who sent me two pictures.
One picture labeled "What our family would have looked like had [we] not adopted.
The second picture was "What our family really looks like."
They adopted two girls with cleft palate and same structures that plague her biological family.
... I remember once this same beautiful woman confessed sadly that her mother raised her without hugs, because she wanted her to be a fighter-
My friend found her way out of the cold- and now refracts love, and sharing. It is between God and her who deserves the credit for her strength of character.

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