MIRRORS: A POST-FACTUAL PROSE POEM
I have replaced the windows in my home – every one of them – with mirrors facing in. I reasoned that wisdom begins and ends with self-knowledge so the things outside were distracting me from what really matters. No more windows – just reflections on myself.
There is a certain liberty in my little mirror world. I am free here to have my own truths, define my own good and evil, practice my own spirituality, compose my own prayers to whomever I choose to address -- or not. If I choose to believe in God here, I have noticed that God looks a lot like me. No surprise. I recall the Bible saying God was created in my image.
And there is a peace in it too. I still remember the people outside, those I loved who suffered and those who suffered, and I was at risk of loving them if they got too close. All unsettling to my serenity. But that was then. I live now in the present moment with myself.
Still, as I look at my reflection my feelings swing to and fro -- liking and not liking what I see. And since I replaced the windows with my mirrors, I have noticed the ceiling getting gradually closer each day – sinking just a little – nothing scary – yet. But sometimes I imagine what may be happening outside – people from far away, of different colors and beliefs, speaking barbarous tongues, creeping nearer and nearer with God knows what intent. And sometimes in the corner of the room, for just a second, my reflection seems to be glaring at me demonically.
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