I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions. <br />Whatever I see I swallow immediately <br />Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike. <br />I am not cruel, only truthful ‚ <br />The eye of a little god, four-cornered. <br />Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall. <br />It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long <br />I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers. <br />Faces and darkness separate us over and over. <br /> <br />Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me, <br />Searching my reaches for what she really is. <br />Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon. <br />I see her back, and reflect it faithfully. <br />She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands. <br />I am important to her. She comes and goes. <br />Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness. <br />In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman <br />Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.<br /><br />Sylvia Plath<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mirror/
