Mirror
Picture of my mother,
Frail and weak,
Holding on to life,
losing strength.
I can see them,
See myself in them.
The edges in her face,
Lines of life.
They are a map
To where I have been and where I will go.
I will never know
Which of the lines are mine
And which belong to
Someone else.
I cry tears,
Tears of love and loss…
Mourning my mother,
Mourning myself.
I stand in the bathroom
gazing in the mirror
at my wrinkles
Just beginning to form.
