Spring falls upon the sleepers, casting spells emerald and pink
An awakening from winter’s slumber, shards coalescing back together,
Again they are perfect. Again, they are complete.
Come. Witness your reflection.
Blossoms billow in the wind; dandelions scatter.
Your eyes are nebulous in these mirrrors. Your face is dark.
You caress it with a kerchief, a little more each time.
Your visage becomes clearer and your eyes more defined.
The days grow warmer, the sun shines harder, and the sight is clearer.
Clearer, clearer. An image of you in these mirrors.
A clear, unfaltering image, each day most high.
Every day, most high.
Then darkness falls. Warm days dip into winter,
The air cuts, it’s so cold.
Darkness envelops, tinting these mirrors,
Yet clearest is the truth.
Your reflection is a dream. Your image is deceit,
Each day most high.
Launder. The rag sits filthy. My hopes fix through concave lens,
Through which your reflection was magnified; is magnified, each time.
At the solstice, the mirrors shatter. I pray it may be for good.
I’m aimless and broken in oblivion. “Let them reflect solely the truth!”
And shrapnel shards in my breast reflect the darkness,
Not the endless farce that is you.
By Katherine de la Rosa