Mirrors Of Home

In the Mirror

my eyes, they are yours
I noticed that time on the plane
when you looked at me
and my eyes looked back
I almost couldn't bear it -
it was too naked
like my soul had been peeled away
it scared you too
that much I could see
we both looked away
as if we were embarrassed

it's easier not to talk
to use the half-world distance
as an excuse, too far
to try again to get on
the times zones a barrier
too high to use skype
when we'd have to see
each other's eyes again
and look away, glance down
or our of the window
like we did on that plane

my skinny forearms are yours
a bit freakish
with our otherwise big bones
but they're strong, yours
too strong when I was little
and my tiny arm snapped
mine are strong in another way
when I hold my children close
the way you never could
with me or with my babies
and never will again

my face contorted by anger
that's all of it yours
I stare at myself
and wish it away, wish
I'd not been given that gift
and instead had been born
gentle like you weren't
I can't blame you any more
my mistakes are all mine
but I wish not to have the anger
or your face, frowning

you're diluted in my children
more of their dad
and all his genes
my deepest sadness
isn't that you don't know them
it's that I'm glad you don't
so they don't look into themselves
and the mirror
and see you, frightening
and difficult, narcissistic
to the end, a mirror only to yourself