Alessio Zanelli: The Mirror

The Mirror

Tell me, man—
what is it you see in the mirror?
Is it those you’ve never been?
Both the one you wish you had
and the one you dread?
Or is it that you’re going to be,
whether you like it or not,
inexorably,
however hard you strive to run free?
No, it’s none of that—
I think I know
what the mirror’s sending back.
It’s whom you’re shedding behind,
piece after piece, day by day.
It’s all you’ve been and done
and is forever gone;
all you’ve loved or hated,
fought for or been indifferent to.
It’s your falls and rises,
crawls on the ground and soars in the sky;
your former neglect of the past,
contempt for the present,
defiance to the future.
It’s the pristine effrontery of youth;
the mark you’ve made beginning to fade.
Yes, I know it all—
you linger there every chance you get,
reabsorbing as many flashbacks
as the glass allows you to.
And I just do because I’m you.

Alessio Zanelli