Reflection

Here, I stand before the mirror.
This fleeting moment marks the end of my past.
It is gone - and yet back again.
It is mine to see in a glaring sun.
It burns my eyes unless I look away.
It is the truth; and its searing flash is that which I deny;
For I have not the courage to look directly at the light.
The reflection in the glass is that of my soul: its spectrum of depth
From potential to waste; from wrinkled grace to chaos;
From tired eyes to healing, and from a sullen mouth of honesty too
Arrogant lips of denial.
In all the woven colors of my journey, I either see or look away.
The faces and breath of all who love and injure me are the canvass of my life.
The brush and blood is mine to reinvent myself in the glow of a soaring song.