In the Mirror
A prisoner in my own house, I am
unable to explore the world outside
unable to explore the world within,
I sit and stare blankly forward at walls
painted long before, when color was mine
to play. Voices unfamiliar echo
those relatives gone along to other
worlds than this-heaven or hell-I cannot
tell nor do confess to know their secrets
yet listen for the meaning in murmurs
between the creak of floor boards, rattles of
loose window panes waiting to tell the truth.
The jailer comes round once a week, glances
in the mirror, smiles a beautiful smile.
