the mirror

To write with any integrity, one must dance in a very narrow place, without walls or light or safety nets. From time to time, it distorts you, rips you, malforms you until you have to ask outside observers if you are alive. I had to do that yesterday, as I could feel the very fabric of who I am ripping at the seams.

I am far from perfect, although not quite the anti-Christ some might need to see me as. More incompetent and gullible than evil of intent, and the mirror should tell no lies.

the mirror

I do not trust the mirror
it lies
my eyes see things it cannot reflect
and therefore the image is imperfect

not like I am imperfect
but like a photograph in only a partial spectrum
only picks up certain things
that may (or may not)
make things look better (or worse)
than they really are

and that is not what I expect from the mirror
I want the truth
not filtered through hearts and minds and souls
themselves bent and twisted
but to see what really is
I'm not afraid of the truth, any truth,
but afraid of the damage that lies in lies

those we tell ourselves
to get through the day
to look into the mirror
to convince ourselves
that there is purpose in our pain

those others tell us
and we believe them eagerly
and readily and without regard
for the corners of the sphere
because they tell us what we want to hear

I want to look into the mirror
without seeing anything less
than what God sees when He looks
without doubt as to what is real
and without prejudice as to who I am

I do not trust the mirror
it lies
my eyes see things it cannot reflect
and therefore the image is imperfect


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.