Joyful Girl ~ Ani Difranco ~ And everything I do is judged, I mostly get it wrong, but oh well. The bathroom mirror has not budged, the woman who lives there can tell. The truth from the stuff that they say. She looks me in the eye, she says Would you prefer the easy way? No? Well, okay, than don't cry.

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

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