Left to myself I finally look up to the mirror. Tear runs through cheek.
Crying back to me my reflection listens as noone has before.
"Look deeper" she cries. Darkness dwells where nothing dwells.
Past my glasses, past the glass of the mirror, past my glasses. My eyes' look at my eyes is the only thing have left.
My body's body demands attention. Silent scream in the twilight of spring.
A second tear runs across my facial hair, and it knows itself a stranger.
Stepping down my eyes I see my body. My body that is not my body. My body and nothing more.
My paper gets wet as a man's hand grips my pen and writes. A stranger's hand.
Chest up and down, the man's body refuses my call for change.
And my body that is not my body moves along with my body's mirror.
My manly jaw opens the silence up, and my mirror cries out. I dive in to help.
I continue to step down into the night. There's nothing to look up to where I came from.
And the echoes of the well hear out my name, my real name. There is wind at the bottom of my heart.
As I dug deeper into my reflection's eyes, I reach a wooden floor. Nothing but stone saw me prior.
When I look in the mirror, I am there.
A lonely little girl shivers back to me. I am alone yet I am the one that shivers.
When I step onto the wood it cracks. The girl looks at me and moves away from the light of my eyes.
I follow. My soul cries. It is the girl that cries. It is I who cries. No surprise, I was the girl all along.
I caress the girl and take it upwards through my mirror's skin. Here it will suffer.
As I keep reading along "Extracting the stone of madness" by Alejandra Pizarnik I stumble upon a collection of 19 short textes called "Los caminos del espejo"~Ways of the mirror, so I decide to write something similar. I didn't expect to get this profound to be honest. If you like my reflection on Pizarki's poems I have now a collection of them. Also definitely check out the original as it is now translated into English.