A collection of poetry from “Medusa’s Mirror”
“Odysseus, faced with the serpent-headed Medusa, cleverly observed her in a mirror to avoid being turned to stone, as all are who dare look directly upon her fearful countenance.”
These are reflections from MEDUSA’S MIRROR... as she dares not gaze into one herself, it shows what we do not want to see... what would turn our hearts and souls to stone, were we to see all as it truly is... and so, spurning such true sight, we remain blind.
Introduction: The Fairest Of Them All?
Mirrors, in a fairy tale land where all had ugly faces, were banned once upon a time. Anyone caught with one was banished. Or worse. We’re inhabitants of such a land. And I'm a sort of living mirror held up to our custom-designed human facades to disprove all the lies we've told ourselves for so long that we've forgotten they were lies to begin with. A mirror has a strange kind of power. No matter how bad or how good one thinks one looks, if a mirror's anywhere near, a furtive quick peek's impossible to resist. And, heaven help you, this one’s right in front of your eyes!
Having once seen, you have to believe. Darn! That bend is there in your nose. That zit’s big as a house! Tooth a tad crooked, left eye a hair "off”. And why’d no one tell you about...? You might think the prettiest and handsomest have no problem, a true, clear looking glass only confirming what they already know— they're drop-dead gorgeous. Not so. They’ve got more to lose, since even a slight flaw takes on massive proportions when detected on the otherwise "perfect". None will scream louder or cringe in more fear, to avoid a mirror's inability to lie, than the best-looking.
I expect all I say to be screamed and cringed at by nearly everyone who reads it. All I can hook with my first words will struggle and plead to be let go, not wanting to read another one. But like any good mirror, the images I reflect are so true and unarguable that most will have to keep staring at them, no matter how ugly. No matter how much the reflection may turn the stomach of a viewer, that power to hold one's gaze will take over and, if only to search for some reason not to believe one's eyes, each piece will be read through to the finish. Not because I'm great shakes as a writer— only because I happen to be a good mirror.
Don't expect any praise. Our kind’s way too good at the back-patting game. That's what got us into the worldwide mess we're in. “The Emperor's New Clothes” a fairy tale by Hans Christian Anderson, said it better than I could. A mirror also played a key role in that story. But, in reverse. You see, some can fool themselves just as easily in front of a mirror. More easily in fact, ‘cause if lying to yourself, it doesn't matter it you look at yourself while you do it.
Here, though, I hold the mirror. And this mirror talks to you like the one in that other fairy tale, “Snow White”. But instead of doing your bidding, telling only what you want to hear, like it did for the evil queen, it tells you what you already know, but don't want to. Isn't it time you were trusted with the truth? If you're going to be a big baby and go to pieces, well so be it. But you should have a chance to prove you're a big girl or a big boy and can handle the truth, unpleasant or not, shouldn't you? So... just take three deep breaths, open your eyes wide, and say after me, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall…"
[Note: Links to all here can be found in the "Writings" section under "Poetry"]
In front of the fitting-room mirror:
Alone In the World
Bad News: Good News
Beachcoming
Becalmed
Crimes Against Humanity
Death Sentences
Deja Vu?
Dying Words
Genesis Revisted: A Day In The Cosmic Lab & Back To The Drawing Board
Ginseng Gang, The
Have You Got The Right Time?
Hiding In The Fog
Ill-Gotten Gains
Ingrates
In The Immortal Words Of...
I Wish
Last Laugh, The
Lead Blindly, Kind Light
Motherly Love: Exercises In Futility
Natural Gifts
On Endday
On the Same Wavelength
Open Access
Open Wounds
Poetic Justice II
Prayer For Peace, A
Reality Fix
Rights of Passage
Shangrila Unfound
Slept Through Your Wake-up Call? & By the Numbers
Spinach Has No Mother
Sticks ‘n Stones... & Broken Bones
Swells On the Boat Deck, The
They Toll For Thee... and Me
...Try, Try, Again?
Uninvolved, The: Women Who’ve Lost Their Ancient Ways
Unlimited Choice
Vain Glory
Warning: Bio-Hazard!
Who’s Primitive!?
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