Narrative

Who is this girl, this image, the silver reflection? 
She brings back memories, the recollection 
of things past, mistakes made. 
Hardened and betrayed 
by the sorrow and the pain of life. 
She sits in the dirt, knees pulled up to her chest, 
staring into the dark of the west, 
in a world devoid of living things, 
she ponders the pain that life brings. 
 
She rises and faces me, 
brown eyes a silent plea. 
Her face framed by black hair, 
her expression that of complete despair. 
I gaze into her haunted eyes, 
cold wind tossing dead leaves about the grey skies, 
and no new hope rises with the breaking dawn, 
for fear blocks her from moving on. 
A question forms on her lips, and she asks 
 
‘I’m living, but why? 
When it is so much easier to die?’ 
She turns and runs, her feet against the hard earth, pounding. 
Dust is stirred, now surrounding, 
and as it clears, I realize, the girl in the mirror, is I.

Silver Reflection