When I was one I looked into the mirror,
I saw a blank canvas,
Begging for paint to ink the surface
And etch deep into itself.
I remember the hope of opportunities
When I realized what I’ll be.
I’ll be whatever I want to be,
And maybe more.
When i was three I looked into the mirror,
All I saw was a wide smile,
It was warm and comforting.
Maybe I miss that smile a bit.
I contemplate the joy,
Joy that steamed from fear
Of hate that I overcame.
It has always been my proudest moment.
When I was five I looked into the mirror.
I saw the excitement in my eyes,
Anticipating the first day of school,
With a curiosity not seen.
It was almost as obvious
As when I first told a story.
Nothing was able to beat the jubilation
Of my very own world.
When I was thirteen I looked into the mirror,
the picture was too distorted to see.
Sometimes I thought I could sense
a hint of that smile I used to have
Other times, the mirror waterfalled,
Reflecting all the self worth I felt.
My heart dropped to my stomach,
The waterfall was bare.
Now I am seventeen I look into the mirror
I see a crossroads with two paths,
one lit up with starlight,
tempting me with the universe ahead.
I can hear the thud of my excitement,
- it beats ferociously.
I can feel a tingling sensation
- the regret of the other road.
When I am twenty five, I’ll look into the mirror.
I want to see the independence,
Of a young woman,
Learning what I passion for.
I want to see a beauty,
In the thirst for knowledge,
And the drive for time
Pushed along in every country that I visit.
When I am fourty-two I’ll look into the mirror.
I want to see a family,
So light-hearted, cosy and fun.
A house unlike the one I grew up in.
I want to bathe in the warmth of the sun,
As laughter echoes in the air
Coaxed from my heart
From the melodies that make cities grow.
But I wait for the day when I’ll look into the mirror,
And barley give it a second glance.
Because I’ll know how fruitless it is.
There is nothing that a mirror can tell me that I don’t already know.
Even if I look and the image is distorted,
Or faded from the withering of the seams,
I wait for when I’ll know it’s okay.
Because an image is the only thing I see.
-Anisah Mariah
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 10:56 AM UTC
When I was one I looked into the mirror,
I saw a blank canvas,
Begging for paint to ink the surface
And etch deep into itself.
I remember the hope of opportunities
When I realized what I’ll be.
I’ll be whatever I want to be,
And maybe more.
When i was three I looked into the mirror,
All I saw was a wide smile,
It was warm and comforting.
Maybe I miss that smile a bit.
I contemplate the joy,
Joy that steamed from fear
Of hate that I overcame.
It has always been my proudest moment.
When I was five I looked into the mirror.
I saw the excitement in my eyes,
Anticipating the first day of school,
With a curiosity not seen.
It was almost as obvious
As when I first told a story.
Nothing was able to beat the jubilation
Of my very own world.
When I was thirteen I looked into the mirror,
the picture was too distorted to see.
Sometimes I thought I could sense
a hint of that smile I used to have
Other times, the mirror waterfalled,
Reflecting all the self worth I felt.
My heart dropped to my stomach,
The waterfall was bare.
Now I am seventeen I look into the mirror
I see a crossroads with two paths,
one lit up with starlight,
tempting me with the universe ahead.
I can hear the thud of my excitement,
- it beats ferociously.
I can feel a tingling sensation
- the regret of the other road.
When I am twenty five, I’ll look into the mirror.
I want to see the independence,
Of a young woman,
Learning what I passion for.
I want to see a beauty,
In the thirst for knowledge,
And the drive for time
Pushed along in every country that I visit.
When I am fourty-two I’ll look into the mirror.
I want to see a family,
So light-hearted, cosy and fun.
A house unlike the one I grew up in.
I want to bathe in the warmth of the sun,
As laughter echoes in the air
Coaxed from my heart
From the melodies that make cities grow.
But I wait for the day when I’ll look into the mirror,
And barley give it a second glance.
Because I’ll know how fruitless it is.
There is nothing that a mirror can tell me that I don’t already know.
Even if I look and the image is distorted,
Or faded from the withering of the seams,
I wait for when I’ll know it’s okay.
Because an image is the only thing I see.
-Anisah Mariah
The stages of life, how I feel each time I look into a mirror.
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