The Mirror and the Mist

Manchu poetry

In the silence of the firs, I gather what remains,
The fragments of a memory, the loosening of chains.
I look at the reflection, but the eyes are not my own,
A shadow in the mirror of a self I've outgrown.

The autumn air is cooling, the summer's green has fled,
A transition in the seasons for the words I haven't said.
The "female asterisk" is a weight I cannot bear,
A heavy skirt I carry, but no longer want to wear.

I am an unstoppable storm, a force of grace and fury,
Escaping from the prying eyes and the world's quiet jury.
I am not a project to fix, nor a role to be played,
But a traveler in the mist, where the old versions fade.

In the vast open sky, I find a different light,
Walking through the shadows to the dawn after night.
I am "both me and mystery," a truth I finally see, 
Lost to the world I knew, but found in being me.

mysterystormother

♡Like0

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.