I’m in my great-grandmother's old photo album <br />from ninety years ago, and I seem much the same. <br />Sure, I'm gloss-finished, black and white, and yes, some frayed. <br />Yet not so bad for my age. Looking much like her, <br /> it's almost that I'm not just myself as the flow <br />of generations are now gathered, like the seas. <br /> Much the same in one life, as photos make childhood <br />quicken once again. One picture's an aperture <br /> to these past worlds. Once more boats sound in harbour's night. <br />Through the window, from a distance, someone slowly <br /> tries keys of a piano. The sound fades on air. <br /> <br /> <br /> I’m in bed and the woman, from that long ago, <br /> who was my mother recites once more from something <br />known as 'Alice In the Looking Glass', then I sleep. <br /> But I awaken in darkness, the silent stop <br />of darkness. I'm alone in the room, so I rise <br /> and the edge of moonlight's blue beams bathe the mirror- <br /> Look, see! Completely caught! I view myself standing <br /> lost and lunar pale- as those in photo albums <br /> that none remember are lost in drawers, while grinning <br /> forever, while forever robbed of the world's light. <br /> <br /> <br />My hands can't touch mirrors. I may become polished <br />surface only, some floating image or else fall <br /> through impossible realms. I must peer, so afraid <br /> and stare and stare. Harbour boats, thrust in night shadows <br />move to still deeper darkness, throbbing a bass note <br /> through my heart. I'm chilled to grimness for I'm aware, <br />in me everything's born, then lives, and falls away. <br />If I turn from that pull, ignore the killing crush <br />of mirror- I can't ever! then all disappears!<br /><br />Glenn Bagshaw<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-ll-clearly-disappear/
