The Mirror

Stumbling, fumbling, falling
Into the abyss’ welcoming embrace,
Searching, scanning, hoping
That it is not you that I must face.

In moments I find weakness
Clings to my every thought,
I am lost in familiar waters
And meeting foes previously fought.

The darkness beckons
And beseeches me forward,
The light sits at my back
Waiting for the tug of a ripcord.

Uncertainty fogs my vision
And clouds my every step,
The dread of moments to come
Frightens in this endless prep.

I reach my destination
Dead-end to an endless hall,
And there stands a mirror
Hung against the wall.

You are there standing in repose
Your eyes dare to accuse,
Here you have waited
And you are not amused.

Your eyes are mine
And my eyes are yours,
Each of us it tired
Of these tiresome chores.

You shrug, as do I
As we are each the first to turn away,
The darkness at my back
For the moment held at bay.