Shattered

Shattered mirrors surround me. They show me fragments of myself. Through them, I see the world in glimpses. The space around me is dark. Sunlight takes no form but of reflection. I am dark. I have no form but in my fragments.

Around me, I see myself. I see each side of who I am. Which one is me? Who am I this day? I catch an eye amidst the jagged edges. It stares back at me with a look of such intimate knowing. It twists and it contorts, as though it were trying to speak to me. It begs understanding. It pleads with me. But its movements upon me are lost.

Another eye holds my attention. It looks at me in steady calm. Its understanding, of equal intimacy. Yet its compassion is without yield. To whom does it belong? My musings draw from it a tear. It looks down. No longer able to meet my gaze.

And down I stare at the world in pieces. Lost to the darkness of my mind. I turn to find a mirror turned now towards my chest. There beats my heart. My reflection is unmoving. My heart fights. I feel its impossible struggle. Blood courses through my veins. The mirror’s course is empty. My course is darkness.

My pain is the jagged edges upon which my attempts to rearrange are met with blood. It is the shadow that surrounds to which I cannot bring the light. It is the picture incomplete that reflects the world around me. It is the faces that I see, all the fragments and their eyes, their pleading and their mourning which to me is fallen silent. How I long that I could speak; how I wish that I could mourn; but the circles that I turn are not enough to piece a picture. Who I am is lost between, and I have lost my eyes and lips.

I need not see my heart to hear its silent pleas. I need not see my blood to feel its violent course. Tears should run in silence, their coolness needs no light. The breath that escapes me needs not to make a sound. Though my eyes beg their mercy: where is it that I stand? Is this my home? Is this my friend? Does this eye know me as it should claim? Why do they watch me? Who are they to me? Why do I see such beauty? To not have an answer is to my heart its cause of pain.