The mirror

The Mirror

I’m standing before the mirror, staring at a stranger.
The face looking back feels distant, almost hostile
familiar enough to unsettle me,
yet hollow in a way I can’t explain.

I study her the way one studies damage
the cracks, the fatigue, the quiet accusation in her eyes.
It’s like examining a photograph that never captured who I truly was.
There’s no warmth in it, no recognition.
Just this strange ache - the feeling of being left behind by my own reflection.

For a moment, I don’t know who abandoned whom -
whether I’ve walked away from her,
or she from me.

“Who are you?” I ask. “It’s just you and me here, you know.”

She studies me in silence for a long moment - eyes narrowing, searching, tracing every detail of my face.
It feels like she’s examining not just my features but my essence,
looking for the one hiding behind the mask.

When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet - hesitant, almost fragile.

“I’m me,” she says slowly, as if testing the words.
Then, after another pause, she adds,
“I wish you could see me.
Not just glare and turn away.
Not with judgment, not with those scrutinizing eyes that keep searching for faults.
But really see me - with your heart.

See me beneath the weariness and the doubts.
See the beauty that still lives here, quietly, waiting to be noticed.
See the spark that refuses to die no matter how many storms you’ve walked through.
See my spirit - the one that never stopped believing in light.
See the love that you are.

And most of all,
I want you to love you.
Completely.
The way I always have.

I take a breath. My eyes soften.
As I search past the flaws, past the stories etched into my skin,
something shifts.
I begin to see
the quiet, eternal soul that always was.

The voice in the mirror continues, gentle and knowing.

You are not your thoughts, blessed soul.
You are not this image trapped in glass.
You are not the stories your mind repeats.
You are not your successes or your failures.
You are the vast stillness upon which all these things appear.

Ever wondered what holds the space for your thoughts to arise?
What wonder awaits beyond your knowing?

Does your heartbeat count the days passing?
Does a flower beg for the bees?
Does a cloud hold back the rain?
Does the night steal from the day?

Why not lay your mind to rest and let life shine upon your heart?
Just be the love your soul already is ;
infinite, playful, unbound as the universe itself.

I smile at her - this mirrored me - and she smiles back.
For a moment, there’s no reflection, no mirror, no separation.
Only love, looking at itself.

Reflection
Most of us first meet ourselves through judgment - counting flaws instead of blessings.
But the mirror is more than a surface; it is a doorway.
Look long enough, and you begin to see through the skin of form into the radiance within.
The wounds, the wrinkles, the weary eyes - all are proof that love has lived here.
When the gaze turns kind, the reflection changes.
Because the soul behind the eyes has never aged.

Written from the edge of wonder — Carmelliea