I saw time through a mirror.
It startled me as I peeked,
a sudden tremor of recognition
I thought I wasn't ready to meet.
I saw the eyes of my mother
staring back into her own,
tired, yet steady with quiet will ~
a smirk that said she'd grown.
How strange that a mirror reflects
with no mask, no disguise
not a polished or perfect illusion,
but the truth within our eyes.
The glass does not condemn us;
it carries what we've been,
the laughter, the sorrow, the trials ~
all the places we have seen.
Once I feared what waited,
the shadows meant for me,
but now I see the mirror holds
the proof that I endure.
To hide is not protection,
to turn away is loss ~
for every line upon my face
is a bridge that I have crossed.
So I claim what I have lived,
each mark, each shining scar ~
I face the mirror boldly,
and I know exactly who I am.
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