Reflection in the Mirror

Every time I turn to peer
at my reflection in the mirror,


a cruel bargain comes in play:
the glass takes off another day


from my expected living span.
It’s vanity’s fair payment plan.


Each time I look I pay, alas.
I see already how the glass


has laced its silver in my hair,
my youth was stolen unaware.


The real me just fades away,
glance by glance, day by day,


until too late I’ll turn to see
the mirror has stolen off with me!
~John Thornberg “Stolen Glances”

Reflections sometimes are blurred and not altogether an accurate representation of the real thing.

When I look at how I’ve changed over the years, as I pass by, just catching a glance in the mirror, I marvel at how the same brain and heart can exist in such a changing shell. I am still me, but the mirror seems to be stealing away the girl and young woman that I was.

And it is as it must be: no fountain of youth on this soil.

Eternity is to be grasped beyond the mirror.

Reflecting Stars

Two whistles, one for each,
and familiar sounds draw close in darkness—
cadence of hoof on hardened bottomland,
twinned blowing of air through nostrils curious, flared.
They come deepened and muscular movements
conjured out of sleep: each small noise and scent
heavy with earth, simple beyond communion…

…and in the night, their mares’ eyes shine, reflecting stars,
the entire, outer light of the world here. 
~Jane Hirschfield from “After Work”

It’s tempting to fall headfirst into their fathomless well –
Their eyes are what rivet me as they search my own,
This retinal magnet drawing me into
Such incalculable depths.

Yet I’m merely reflected like starlight;
Only dancing on this mirrored surface
When I long to dive deep to understand what they see in me:
To be so lost I must be found.

Their Eyes Shine, Reflecting Stars

noblesseeye1

 

alleye

 

sashaeye

 

Two whistles, one for each,
and familiar sounds draw close in darkness—
cadence of hoof on hardened bottomland,
twinned blowing of air through nostrils curious, flared.
They come deepened and muscular movements
conjured out of sleep: each small noise and scent
heavy with earth, simple beyond communion…

…and in the night, their mares’ eyes shine, reflecting stars,
the entire, outer light of the world here. 
~Jane Hirschfield from “After Work”

 

wallyeye

 

tonyeye

 

It’s tempting to fall into this fathomless well –
Their eyes are what I see first,
This retinal magnet drawing my own into
Such incalculable depths.

Yet I’m merely reflected like starlight;
Only dancing on a mirrored surface
When I long to dive in deeper~
To be so lost I must be found.

 

wally617

 

noblesse11316

 

noblessesunset

 

brothers

Lenten Grace — We are All Sojourners

photo by Josh Scholten
photo by Josh Scholten

photo by Josh Scholten
photo by Josh Scholten

“I alternate between thinking of the planet as home
– dear and familiar stone hearth and garden –
and as a hard land of exile in which we are all sojourners.”
~Annie Dillard from Teaching a Stone To Talk

I find it very difficult to admit I am as temporary as a dew drop on a leaf, a mere mirrored reflection of this incredible place where I dwell.  I want it to last, I want it etched in stone, I want to be remembered beyond the next generation, I want not to be lost to the ether.

Yet I, like everyone, am sojourner only, not settled and certainly not lasting.   As a garden flourishes and then dies back, so will I.  This is exile in the wilderness until I am led back home.

Home.  Really home.

Forever etched on His heart.

Forever dwelling within His Hand.

photo by Josh Scholten
photo by Josh Scholten

photo by Josh Scholten
photo by Josh Scholten