Mirror on Life
Spieglein, Spieglein an der Wand, wer ist die schönste in dem Land?
From eight-thousand year’s old obsidian, reflecting the light
To Hathor’s image on a flattened disc in the British Museum.
From Mayan pools of liquid, where gods watch in the night
To the reflection of Narcissus entrancing its owner to death.
We peer into the mirror darkly and clutch at an inner light.
Miroir, miroir sur le mur, qui est le plus beau de tous ?
And still we search with eyes self-critical, seeking every sign,
potentially renewing self-confidence and raising expectations,
And ensuing heartache when expectancy does not align.
Reach for tablets, hide under the duvet and avoid the world
The shiny glass tyrant has shown me a face that is not mine.
Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?
And the magazines and newspapers, even those that bear the name.
The Mirror, Der Speigel or Le Monde not so Diplomatique,
Whatever the title, whatever the politics, they really are all the same.
They tell you what went before, reflect the event from an angle
And like the mirror in the bathroom, every face is just fair game.
If I flip the magazine this way, does it give me the storyline?
If I flip it that way, will the front cover face still be mine?
Does the mirror tell the truth? Does the press tell the truth?
Maybe one day we will know. Maybe we will only know in time.