I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful --
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long.
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness seperate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
This is one of my favourite poems. I think one of the most outstanding emphasis we see here is the flow of time - especially how the woman ages and the physical changes. "and in me an old woman rises toward her day after day". I also perceive this "young girl" to be herself; her youth. Again, the passing of time. "In me she has drowned a young girl".
It intrigues me how the mirror persona claims to have "no preconceptions", yet it judges the candles and the moon to be liars, maybe because the candles and the moon lie to the woman about her aging (which is something she dreads and refuses to face) But it is still truthful, reflecting reality.
Very very interesting, but I detect depression underneath this. There are many ways to intepret this anyway.
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