The Face In the Mirror

 

The Dog of Joy

Over the years,
as I looked in the mirror,
I have seen many changes -
the same eyes as my mother,
my grandmother,
all the Marrs.

Once, at fifty,  I saw my grandmother's face
looking back at me.

I have seen happiness
in that mirror.
I have seen hopeful eyes
and long wild hair.

I have seen sorrow, and loss,
and heartbreak -
and then transformation.

And now I am old.

Someone cut my long hair off
without permission.
I begin, fiercely,
to grow it back,
wilder than ever.
My face knows so much
that I wish I had known
back then,
but that is not the journey.
The journey is long,
full of stumblings,
and starting overs.

And no matter who it is
who looks back at me
in the mirror,
always
-always!-
behind the outer self
that the world sees,
is that wild girl 
galloping along wild beaches
with a big black wolf.

Inspired by my comment on Jae Rose's poem, that reminded me of a few things. Smiles.