Objects in Mirror are Closer Than They Appear

My words hurt.
Too tight and brown
and all wrong
cutting into my soul.
I've held the heartbreak of this world,
lifeless fingers painted pink with polish,
the piece of me I let them take,
turned my head and counted backwards from one hundred,
closed my eyes and I went away.
I've lifted the burnt rag of humanity to my eyes,
And looked through its sheer fibers
at empty bowls
raised by shaking hands.
I've watched old men pulling at doors
struggling and ashamed
forced to accept
what they cannot understand.
I've felt the breeze of time
as it blows through me
rearranging everything,
the worlds and people I have built.
Lying alone in the darkness
we are all afraid,
eyes closed tight as night blows by.
It's not what's in the darkness
of our dreams and rooms that scares us.
It's the daylight coming relentlessly
that we fear.
It's what we see
when we open our eyes.

Anna Wilder
Bakersfield, CA, USA