Broken Mirrors

my muse

What would you do if you found out that nothing is as it appears

That none of the people around you are real, or rather what you thought them to be

The angry man or woman sitting across from you simply a portal for your own rage to find escape

The crying, inner child, permission to release your pain or disappointment at what you hoped life would be

The funny person in the room expressing the hilarity of the moment encouraging you to let go and surrender to the joy and laughter

The hypnotic moments of the slower moving soul, arthritis and inflammation forcing their attention to watching each step, so as to not trip whilst walking along the path

The bravery of grief, shared, reminding you how blessed you are to have felt love so deeply

That its loss makes it at times hard to breathe

The increased cadence of speaking helped along by the warmth of night tea, inhibitions cast aside

Exposing how foolish it was to worry about their perception of you in the first place

The upset stomach, the aching joints, the longing to reunite with your child left behind, the so desperately wanting to release past hurts, disappointments and loss

The wondering if you were a good teacher, guide, student and friend

The forgotten make up, wrinkled clothes, socks worn repeatedly, hair in various shades of dishevelment

Reading glasses reached for, to not stumble over written words, moans of pleasure as new tastes are experienced dancing across your tongue

Unnecessary apologies for imagined slights, curse words said out loud, not whispered, without fear of judgement

Wondering if you will ever be experienced enough to teach another or with all the years behind you, wondering if what you have to give is still relevant

Cultural differences lost in translation, accents, expressions, shared stories from too many lifetimes

All of these moments, the stories, expressions, experiences, vulnerabilities, passion, enthusiasm, joy and fear

What would you do if you found out that all is not as it appears

But instead, a room upon a mountain top, a solidary cat wandering about, gazing into a mandala of 14 exquisitely broken mirrors.