Reflections

Her tongue has spoken in languages that they know from a previous life. It’s not that they don’t understand her but rather they realise that, in understanding, they will have knowledge of themselves. And, in having knowledge of themselves, they will be able to see themselves in the mirror.

Mirror

on the wall

who is the

fairest of

a small section

arbitrarily chosen

and given power to disseminate

fairness?

 

Then there’s Sam. That bright toothed, brown eyed, shaggy haired, adjective nouned, individual. Sam wanted to learn the language. For the longest time it was not only the adventure that Sam needed to go on, it was the only path that Sam could tread. And she saw Sam. She watched as feet and fingers tried to become a mesh of understanding and meaning. As Sam looked into windows with increasing fascination. This was immediately chalked up to bad vision.

The glare from the sun has been known to shield the known in plain sight.

So it made sense that Sam’s fascination with windows did not scare them. Sure, it came up when the kids in Sam’s class started teasing, but that was a simple matter. The teasing was necessary, as if something that needed to be felt so that Sam stopped looking into windows.

Even later when Sam coloured the window purple they didn’t mind. Purple after all, is the colour of royals. At least that’s what they told themselves.

 

Late at night

the whispers run through

the corridor.

Looking for an ear

to make home.

 

Can you hear

me?

Or am I

an echo

of a place

you used to

live?

 

The simple truth is that no truth is simple. Every piece of matter exists in a 4 dimensional space. How can we know the future if the past keeps kicking us in the ass? No one knew how to answer. It seemed like a simple question to Sam. So much so that the real question was, how has no one not asked this? Which should have been the first sign of how mirrors only show reflections of reality. And Sam had already been reflected back.

 

There are few things

that fill space

like unanswered questions.

There are fewer ways

to die

than to be born.

 

And that which has been seen can’t be unseen, which has been heard can’t be unheard, which has been spoken unspoken and which has lived unlived. So they cover their ears and whistle every time she speaks.

 

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