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Wandering through forgotten rooms
Thinking back on what I did and didn’t do
A blanket falls, soothing my soul
I know I did all that I could…and no more

Everywhere I turn, I am faced with my reflection
Turn a corner, follow a path, spin in circles
I am everywhere…pleading to be understood
So I look…through the glass, into the eyes

And what I see astonishes me
This person that I used to despise
This person that I used to avoid
Has become…someone I recognize

I see strength in those eyes
Strength that my past has formed
I see a soul—complex, and beautiful
Every layer unique…every experience recorded

But…most of all I recognize the heart
A patchwork heart, beautiful yet scarred
That has survived through the years…
The lovely, the scary, the meaningful, and the hard

I have come to understand my reflection
She stands strong...she is her own rock
She smiles mysteriously…she knows many things
She winks…she understands more than you think
She sheds a tear…there are many things to fear

Wandering more through the mist and the mirrors
I’ve found myself…
Though not much more is clear
And as I emerge into the bright of daylight
There is one thing I know…
That girl in the mirrors—she has a long way to go

Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass,
of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind

(William Wordsworth)

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The following comments are for "Fun-House Wanderer"
by seriousinsanity

fun-house wonderer
Well s.i.s, the title drew me in, but I'm not sure it fits the poem somehow? I thought the poem itself was excellent. It built and built in intensity and strength. Impressive.

( Posted by: smithy [Member] On: April 23, 2005 )

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