Vijaya Sundaram

Poet, Musician, Teacher, and Amateur Visual Artist

Hide and Seek: Reflections (Poetry, Day 2)

I see you.

You lurk behind a mask

But your eyes move,

And in those eyes,

I see desire, I see fright

I see self-effacement

And self-aggrandizement.

I see sadness and loss,

And the bluster and dross of

A life lost to reason

And treasonous hopes fled

As hopes always do.

I see excuses and demands

And your parents’ commands hiss

In your ear.

I see you sneer, but your lip

Trembles, and your chin

Unsteady against the onslaught of

Grief and hate within you.

And crouched beneath it all,

I see you — you, with

A face as bright and young

As a new universe.

Why do you hide that face?

Step into the light, friend.

It’s all around you, this glow.

Shed that mask, shed that past,

Let memory flow through

Your bones and flesh,

The memory of when you stood,

And looked at your face

So freshly made, so young,

And smiled, delighting in your

You-ness.

Stand before me, and

Speak, friend.

Blueness surrounds you,

But you can still speak.

Say these words now,

Say them to me:

Mirror, show your face!

Mirror, erase me.

Start me anew.

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