Have at least one poem, 2016.
The Mirror
I
stand beside a frozen lake, searching for the words
Reflected
in its surface.
I
saw the thoughts in my head
Perfectly
positioned on a page.
I
knew I could never reach them, inside that watery mirror.
That
the meaning of my thoughts, so elegant and clear when on the pedestal of my
mind
Would
never make a neat transition to paper.
My
poetry is messy.
I
sit for ages beside the ice, scrabbling until my nails are chipped and blood
drips down my fingers.
Tugging
at the elusive symbols, shoals of ink and concept
That
flitter and disperse.
I
clasp one, and it flops, wriggling onto the earth.
Others
follow,
Inquisitively,
Seeking
their companion.
Often,
I gaze at a mirror,
Admiring
the grace and beauty of the shoal.
A
dance of emotion and calligraphy.
They
are enthralling, ensnaring, invisible.
For
no one can see into the mirror but me.
And
I remember, that painful and tiring as reaching through the glass can be
No
one can eat a fish that’s swimming in the sea.
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