CRACKED MIRRORS

Oftentimes, be it beauty or defeat and pain, she faced the problem head-on while the ground kept her immutable curiosity and gaze. How much of that problem did she own? But, the fall leaf’s response was defiantly mute during its own decomposition; an appropriate non-response was best. She wondered if she should question some other object, personifying that object as herself (most frequently, bits of paper played that role), the same question in hope of a whispered response? Mirrors were no good because they never reflected the truth – only an inverted one – and she needed no help with that particular angle.

Why does the writer look in a mirror when you already know what you'll see?

~ Miranda McDonald

📷 cred @mymcdona #bitsandpieces #poetry