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February 06, 2023

A Gathering of Mirrors

By Michael H. Brownstein

A Gathering of Mirrors

I am past fifty and wondering where I am going with this.
Hanukah has ended, Christmas is past, Kwanza is gathering mass.
A hundred feet from the trail, the horse barn has the smell of horses,
Sweat and sawdust stained and sticky, mold drenched in snow.
A son cannot understand the reflections of a father,
A daughter asks if God wears clothes all of the time,
And a sister says she knew an angel once: She never wore anything.
Early morning, the resident blue jay hops on its branch:
Glory. Glory. Glory. A wife has an inability to see,
A son combs his hair without a mirror, a daughter dresses in the dark,
and a sister says: I met God once. She was naked before the mirror.






Article © Michael H. Brownstein. All rights reserved.
Published on 2018-01-08
Image(s) are public domain.
2 Reader Comments
Anonymous
01/12/2018
12:41:12 PM
Excellent poem. Just excellent. Can I say excellent one more time? Yes, this piece is excellent.
Charles Cicirella
01/12/2018
02:00:58 PM
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