The Man in the Mirror

How oft we pass without notice

Mirrors and other reflective surfaces

Even when we do take time to look 

Do we really see the one looking back

Oh, I know we look at the surface

We have to make the hair is coiffed

We must make sure the makeup is proper

Or the beard is trimmed just so

Every now and then, however

We need to take a deeper dive

We must stand before the soul’s mirror 

And look long at the man in the mirror 

Who is this man looking back at me

This cannot be the me others see

This man with eyes of sadness stained

With scars of deep sorrow expressed

This man rages for every breath

As if he is oppressed by some great weight

He stands barely with stooped shoulders

His complexion is ashened by deaths veil 

It seems he has spent a lifetime

Dragging chain of various grudges

Links forged of unforgiven wrongs 

Both received and perpetrated

He stands poised to step into the light

His heart, ready to bask in freedom

Yet, the flesh hooks of the past pierce him 

He struggles with an unrelenting yesterday 

His confidence is riddled with uncertainty

His bravery is just a mask over his fear

His polished armor hides a broken soul

His dulled sword is a useless ornament

This man hiding in my darkened mirror 

Filled with all dread and undying doubt

For anywhere, in any situation, at any time 

This man, this hidden man, could emerge 

The man in the mirror

© Ron Simpson Jr.

February 5, 2021