Into the Mirror
There was a mirror
sitting in the old dusty attic.
It could tell stories
but save that for tales of Snow White.
There was a sheet protecting
it from receiving any more memories.
It was sturdy and
reached towards the ceiling.
Full of emotions that
can be felt today.
The sheet moved; I
heard a slight clinking with a sway of a rosery.
The perfect beginning
to every day started at the pointed corner.
Mirrors trap
everything even if you’re not using them,
It takes in all of
life that passes it.
It recalls prayers at
the foot of the bed,
You were raised to
clutch that symbol.
It stopped meaning
something.
The bombs dropped.
That rosery was left
on that corner.
You didn’t need that
symbol.
Somehow, I get that.
The world never knows
us alive when we’re not famous,
The world will never
remember us either after we’re gone.
As that doesn’t
matter, just the souls that join in heaven.
Long after you’re
gone and my children ask about their Grandma,
I’ll tell them of the
mirror.
Of how She prayed on
her knees for the souls that she reached.
They were never
ceasing and not unheard,
Always consistent,
For her family and as
others she loved.
I’ll tell them about
her dancing in the lavender fields,
The sprigs of
lavender woven in her braids.
I’ll tell them of
your love for our Savior and Lord.
I wrote this for a friend's mom and I have never written something for someone else to gift. I am very proud of how this turned out and how much my friend liked this poem.