I am lost in a room full of mirrors, I don’t even know
who the real me is. I can’t look for my eyes are blinded by the reflection.
Tell me, mirror, what do you want me to see? Turn yourself away, for I know not
the stranger pointing back. Shatter and fall. Cut me up in pieces and send me into
the oblivion. When I look into you, who is it that I see? Who is that stranger
crying silently and alone? What are those two lines encrusted below his eyes?
Am I the one in tears or it is you giving me the illusion? Let me heave, turn
your eyes away so my tears can fall, for I have held on long enough. Look away,
you image, turn and face the wall and let me rend my heart broken and tear
myself apart. Show me my face. Let me
see the wrinkles and the tear marks. Allow me to view my visage, with its
craters and bruises. Go run, run image, run to where you came from. I want to
see me, not the dark ghost trying to scare me, not a monster with eyes full of
impunity and a heart full of darkness. I cannot see the me I want to see, I can
only find the broken others, those that I broke with my Hubris. I see them all
scattered on the ground, deeds I have done, the people I’ve broken, those that
I have chocked and suffocated. Shatter not mirror, stand still and let me pay
for my sins. Show me all of them, let them take the pitchforks and chase me
home. Let them take their bonfires and burn me down. Show me mirror, let me
stew in my sins, let them torture me. Let me know why I built walls when I
should have built bridges. Let me know why I buried them when I should have
planted them. Why have I fought a war when peace was a cleaner option? Take
away the trophy I’ve won, and give me all what I’ve lost. Make me worthy, then
someday I shall see myself in the mirror. Make me clean, then someday I shall
not be afraid of he who points back, then maybe next time I shall not take the trophy,
but pick all which is left behind.
If we must die If we must die, let it not be like cows in the slaughter, walking willingly into the bloodbaths, too meek to resist and too trusting to argue. Let us die like buffaloes in a lion chase or ants in a midday march. Let us die like termites in search of freedom in a hostile world. If we must die, let it not be like birds caught in storm or a deer by a hunter’s spear. Let it not be like foxes caught in traps or flies landing on fire. If we must die, let our death not be told to those with faint hearts and loud wails. Let it not be known by those women who know not to keep their mouth shut. Let it not be told to those frail and on the brink lest they tilt over. If we must die, let the news be hushed and kept silent. Let everyone be told that we refused to be vanquished, that the flame refused to be extinguished. Let them be told that it is not graves but a mound full of seeds and flowers. Lord, if we must die, let us waft out into your presence like sacred incense. Send a ch
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