Another poem I wrote as part of a college class. Its tough not to look for the worst in myself, but I gotta remember that not everybody sees me the way I see myself.
Before
me a mirror reflects a man, a crude block of stone
on
which appears no master’s mark, nor blade on which to hone.
The
jagged edges and cracks of strain, a statue yet unformed
denies
existence of foundries far from whence itself was torn.
Never
to be a majestic peak or monument of kings,
nor
hallowed chapel that from within a throng of angels sing.
I
must at once unlock the stare, the mirror cannot lie.
Through
my own eyes the truth be seen, a hopeless mass abides.
To
place a mirror behind me though, the mystery reveals.
I
see now more than my own face, posterity fulfilled.
The
eyes of my children look to me, I stand much taller now.
Their
rock of safety in the storm, my strength to them I show.
Reflected
are also ancestral lines of generations, past
fathers
and mothers whisper as the breeze among grass.
Hereditary
drawings in the caverns of the stone
when
deciphered and interpreted give power to their own.
For
with a mirror in front and back, reflections never cease.
The
chain of life extends beyond the realm the eyes can see.
I
view again that slab of rock, raw yet opportune,
recalling
its noble birthright from the mount that it was hewn.
It
must withstand the storms of time to reach its destined form.
Tears
of rain and angry winds give shape where once was none.
All
the while unknowingly bearing the master’s mark-
a
polished gem, one day to become more than a mere ember in the dark.
by Derek Herzberg
