in the pools something in me touched
you reflected in the water
and i could feel you shiver, watched it ripple
we both grew cold
as we recognized the slow burn somewhere deep
somewhere in the world there is a girl who cannot bear the sight of her own reflection. she stares into the mirror until the air begins to feel like water she cannot breathe;
she inhales, and lets remorse set fire to her lungs.
My reflecting has changed with age.
The face I see in the mirror looks back at me with a less critical eye,
I see acceptance and forgiveness.
My older eyes know to look beyond the mirror.
My reflecting has changed with years.
Near sixty years of life passage –
So much love and death and joy and pain
Already lived.
My reflecting has a wider view.
There is so much more looking back now that
I must, you see, remember to delight in all
There is ahead.
Reflecting always brings to mind for me a pool. Still, silent, and unsullied by debris or any other sort of clutter that might muck up one’s view. Reflecting is the activity of quiet minds or quiet moments in a day.
Reflecting is, in many ways a luxury. Especially for those of us in turbulent times, or in pools where everything is not so crystal clear. Might be that one day, after it’s all settled down we get our chance to look and to see and to decide if we did the things we should’ve. But seeing that in the moment it’s happening … well, that’s something else entirely.
She sat on the bench alone, the sun radiating its heat on her bare arms. She remembered the past, reflecting upon its idyllic state.
Zoe Jen
I swear, I could see the blood dripping from my nose reflecting back at me in your eyes. My maniacally grin and the dripping, thick liquid on my face that didn’t concern us at all.
Sterling Bindel
The mirror reflected refracted light back into my eyes, and as I twisted my hair over my shoulder I could spot an eery figure crouched over my couch. They seemed to be looking over my shoulder, and I fought the urge to look back to the position in which they sat. The vacant stare of their eyes helped remind me that they weren’t real; that it was just an illusion sentenced upon me by their death.
I looked at the mirror, with my eyes eerily reflected back at me. The redness within them still burned through, and I could feel a sharp pain ache near the back. The bastard of a witch would get their due, but first I had a job to finish.
E
You do a lot of this when you get that phone call that says everything in your life is going to change again. You had a brief respite from the whole thing; some quiet dinners and glasses of wine; some nice lovemaking and walking along and laughing about stupid things. You were grateful that you got past the needles and the IV drips and the nurses in and out of the room all the time and looking at the machines that you learned how to read like a newly coined resident. BP and all the rest of it. You got complacent; started reflecting on how good things were going, thinking about traveling and going back to Ireland because he really loved it there. He always loves places you drag him to; once you get past the dragging. He looks at things with wonder; you never thought he could do that because you didn’t bother getting to know him. You’re an idiot for that; you’re an idiot for so many things. So just when you were getting used to the idea that things were getting better the phone call comes about the results of this new test that there’s nothing to worry about. And deep inside, far down where you can’t let him see, you know that there is such thing as nothing to worry about. That creature doesn’t exist. Worry is back. And it will never be gone. You know.
ruby
The pool was reflecting her ugliness right back at her. Physically she was beautiful and many men would walk around stiff from her passing by, other women were jealous and she could give not a fuck.
MybalSytch
The sunlight reflecting off the surface of the pond was blinding. She held her hand to her eyes and looked at the edge of the water. The boat was still moored there and she caught her breathe. The fairy princess and her court beckoned to her.
The last few days had been rather vexing, she supposed. It was as if the world had slipped away from her, slick with soap and just dying to escape her grasp. She couldn’t actually remember much, she realized. She had thought she knew what happened, but upon further consideration, everything she believed was fact turned out to be clouded opinion.
I often reflect and like to spend time by myself to reflect. Sometimes this reflection takes the form of prayer. I like reflecting when I am running or cycling and tend to have high cerebral activity at this time. I want to have good thoughts and reflections which don’t fall into bad thoughts, or nostalgic thought or thoughts that aren’t constructive.
Matthew Lemke
This has become an all too common occurrence in my daily routine. Typically, I would point towards the positive and even necessary application of this technique to evolve the mind and subsequent social behavior; however, given that life has been repeatedly pounding the shit out of me…I’m afraid my compulsive reflections have only led towards dimmer, more pessimistic thoughts and behaviors. A tragic outcome of the human condition.
in the pools something in me touched
you reflected in the water
and i could feel you shiver, watched it ripple
we both grew cold
as we recognized the slow burn somewhere deep
somewhere in the world there is a girl who cannot bear the sight of her own reflection. she stares into the mirror until the air begins to feel like water she cannot breathe;
she inhales, and lets remorse set fire to her lungs.
you raise your hand when i raise mine
we sit together,
moving in sync
with one another’s motions.
the scar on your lip
reminds me of the summer we rolled down grassy hills
and got sunburned too many times.
this is the same word as last night what the fuck. learning about reflection and refraction in first year physics seems hilarious to me.
Reflecting is like mirroring everything you feel untill there is a beam so bright it sets your mind on fire.
My reflecting has changed with age.
The face I see in the mirror looks back at me with a less critical eye,
I see acceptance and forgiveness.
My older eyes know to look beyond the mirror.
My reflecting has changed with years.
Near sixty years of life passage –
So much love and death and joy and pain
Already lived.
My reflecting has a wider view.
There is so much more looking back now that
I must, you see, remember to delight in all
There is ahead.
Reflecting always brings to mind for me a pool. Still, silent, and unsullied by debris or any other sort of clutter that might muck up one’s view. Reflecting is the activity of quiet minds or quiet moments in a day.
Reflecting is, in many ways a luxury. Especially for those of us in turbulent times, or in pools where everything is not so crystal clear. Might be that one day, after it’s all settled down we get our chance to look and to see and to decide if we did the things we should’ve. But seeing that in the moment it’s happening … well, that’s something else entirely.
I stared down at the pool of water at my feet. The rain was pouring down fast. Lightning lit up the sky. I began running the long run home.
She sat on the bench alone, the sun radiating its heat on her bare arms. She remembered the past, reflecting upon its idyllic state.
I swear, I could see the blood dripping from my nose reflecting back at me in your eyes. My maniacally grin and the dripping, thick liquid on my face that didn’t concern us at all.
The mirror reflected refracted light back into my eyes, and as I twisted my hair over my shoulder I could spot an eery figure crouched over my couch. They seemed to be looking over my shoulder, and I fought the urge to look back to the position in which they sat. The vacant stare of their eyes helped remind me that they weren’t real; that it was just an illusion sentenced upon me by their death.
I looked at the mirror, with my eyes eerily reflected back at me. The redness within them still burned through, and I could feel a sharp pain ache near the back. The bastard of a witch would get their due, but first I had a job to finish.
You do a lot of this when you get that phone call that says everything in your life is going to change again. You had a brief respite from the whole thing; some quiet dinners and glasses of wine; some nice lovemaking and walking along and laughing about stupid things. You were grateful that you got past the needles and the IV drips and the nurses in and out of the room all the time and looking at the machines that you learned how to read like a newly coined resident. BP and all the rest of it. You got complacent; started reflecting on how good things were going, thinking about traveling and going back to Ireland because he really loved it there. He always loves places you drag him to; once you get past the dragging. He looks at things with wonder; you never thought he could do that because you didn’t bother getting to know him. You’re an idiot for that; you’re an idiot for so many things. So just when you were getting used to the idea that things were getting better the phone call comes about the results of this new test that there’s nothing to worry about. And deep inside, far down where you can’t let him see, you know that there is such thing as nothing to worry about. That creature doesn’t exist. Worry is back. And it will never be gone. You know.
The pool was reflecting her ugliness right back at her. Physically she was beautiful and many men would walk around stiff from her passing by, other women were jealous and she could give not a fuck.
The sunlight reflecting off the surface of the pond was blinding. She held her hand to her eyes and looked at the edge of the water. The boat was still moored there and she caught her breathe. The fairy princess and her court beckoned to her.
The last few days had been rather vexing, she supposed. It was as if the world had slipped away from her, slick with soap and just dying to escape her grasp. She couldn’t actually remember much, she realized. She had thought she knew what happened, but upon further consideration, everything she believed was fact turned out to be clouded opinion.
I often reflect and like to spend time by myself to reflect. Sometimes this reflection takes the form of prayer. I like reflecting when I am running or cycling and tend to have high cerebral activity at this time. I want to have good thoughts and reflections which don’t fall into bad thoughts, or nostalgic thought or thoughts that aren’t constructive.
This has become an all too common occurrence in my daily routine. Typically, I would point towards the positive and even necessary application of this technique to evolve the mind and subsequent social behavior; however, given that life has been repeatedly pounding the shit out of me…I’m afraid my compulsive reflections have only led towards dimmer, more pessimistic thoughts and behaviors. A tragic outcome of the human condition.