Mirror Image...

mirror image

Who is she,

that woman gazing back

from the mirror, whose

lined face and white 

hair and bag-rimmed

eyes hold a vague familiarity-

and yet seem strangely,

sadly alien?

Where is the smiling girl

who once peered back,

whose skin was fresh and

smooth, whose eyes were

clear and blue, whose days

were filled with purpose and

the seeming clarity of

knowing who she was?

But did she, really?

As she raced from task to

task, donned role after role,

meeting expectation after

expectation- most not

her own- I recall her longing

to stop, to step back, her

yearning for a deeper sense

of who she really was.

And the woman in the 

mirror smiles- and I see my

life etched upon that blessedly

familiar face. I see a sense of

peace which seems to stay, 

even in the midst of life's

unending tumult. I see the

person I have become

while negotiating the daily

storms, my only paddle

a wavering faith that the sun

will  shine again- sometime,

somewhere.

And I smile back, tears

streaming down my life-battered

face- "Good morning, dear one.

Welcome to a new day."