This Hated Object

Copyright 2003

I stand here in front of this hated object
staring at the woman it reflects

The woman who stares at me is ugly in her soul,
you can see it in her; the darkness.

She is scared of being alive, of living,
of changing, of achieving her goals.

She says to me, "I will do this" and "I will do that"
I am frightened, the look in her eyes speaks of horror to come

Unspeakable terror - it wraps itself around her spine
a paralyzing, back arching, fear that causes her face to discolor.

Red-angry flames of emotion splotched upon her cheeks
the spittle collects in the corners of her mouth

Deep down she knows she could fail herself,
fail all those who depend upon her.

She cannot breathe! Some one save her!
Give her life! Breath for her!

Help this woman staring at me in fear and pain, in hopelessness
Take her in your arms . . comfort her.

Tell her that this fear shall pass.
That it does recede - she can do this!

Live this life, be that person,
live that dream.

And then I hear her..
She whispers softly - "live, be, dream"

But, how can this be? I ask myself,
How can I hear this woman staring back at me?

She reaches up, and touches her lips as they move
just as I reach up and touch my own.

Slowly, I step back,
back from the woman who stares at me.

She is not I, I rage at her!
All lies! She lies! - I lie

I stand here,
Looking at this woman and hearing - my lies to myself.