irrors M

for a long time
i had been looking into mirrors
wrong mirrors
right mirrors
broken: almost mended
/ mirrors
i kept seeing my reflections
through many eyes all at the same time
and none of them ever was my own
some mirrors/i am sweet
some mirrors/i am cold
some mirrors /i am the priest burning incense-driving -demons to their homes
some mirrors/i am the sinner kneeling for salv+tion
/these/mirrors/have/showed/me/things
blurred my vision
/these/mirrors/have/showed/me/things
and
all
these
years
i
have
carried
blurry
images
not
knowing
exactly
what
i
looked
like
anytime i confronted myself
it was the woman people said i was
and those women were too many
to be invited to rent this body with me
until
finally
i
decided
to
stop.
looking into eyes
that weren’t my own
to find myself
i reached into my soul
saw me helplessly lying there
with a good heart but stains of mistrust
and pain and hurt but somehow
it still looked g  o  o  d
like an abstract mural 
blasted on the walls
of a giant temple
i became my own safe sanctuary
and at the same time the
worshipper with reverent admiration
and devotion to every colour and symbol,
offering prayers and sacrifices
one time in the confession
box i told the priest
that in my next life
i would love to be
baptised but not with water
but lilies
water cleans
lilies bloom
they say color is a property
of light as
seen by people
and black is my light
my most preferred color,
the color of my skin, my kinky hair,
my pupil,
black is the color of the soft
lining of my upper lip,
the fabric decorating my
first diary, my favorite dress,
my dream car, my office telephone
and if i was born as an
African America i would have
loved to always drink my
my coffee
black
who?
was?
i?
who?
am?
i?
who?
will?
i?
be? come?
stripping myself of every cloth i wore
as my father’s first born child
the-preacher’s-daughter
as my mother’s look alike
my sister’s role model
my cousin’s praise
my teacher’s favourite
that-girl-who-sang-in-the-church-choir
led bible studies
that girl who smiles
who hugs
who gives
who grieves
i took all these garment away and i stood there left with nothing
as fresh as i had once laid quietly in my mother’s womb
surrounded by water that should have drown me
but i survive
/Why /can’t/i/survive/here/too?
unsure of which world i was entering in
which laws and rules were going to bind me
which religion was going to sanctify me
and now i am here
drawn to an escape
that brings my thoughts to rest
an
answer
to
my
unasked
questions
who am i?
i am scared of eyes
thousands
hundreds
ten
One
who am i?
it’s insane
hysterical
don’t tell anybody
the mirror is breaking
the person you once found here
does not live her anymore
stop looking for me
ghosts/
live/
here/
i only went to the kitchen to eat
these words sat on a chair next to me
uninvited
i wrote them
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