Splintered Self


Do fragments of the
splintered mirror
reveal hidden truths?

Oh, I see a nostril,
then a black pupil is
staring back at me.

Profuse images impact my soul.
Some so sharp they hurt.
Others fuzzy and enigmatic.

Which are the genuine truths?
An eye is looking into itself.
What do I see?
Am I blinded to reality?

Fragmented images are so obscure.
I frantically search for
the missing shards.

Must piece slivers together,
see cracks and all.
These make the whole of me,

Even separate shadowy flakes
somehow reveal the nebulous me,
through the splintered mirror.

Lynne Halevi

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