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Into the Mirror

 

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.

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