The mirror and the wall.

Chris Duffy

I looked up and there you were, a man I used to know.
An older man than I remember, from not so long ago.
We'll have our conversation, since you've been kind enough to call
Because talking to the mirror, beats talking to the wall.
We never got to meet like this, when I was in my prime.
I did n't want to listen, I did n't have the time.
Too busy making memories, that now I can't recall.
So I'll talk to the mirror, and you talk to the wall.
A stranger stands before me, someone I think I know.
A bearded version of a man, I was not long ago.
His face is slightly wrinkled and he does n't seem as tall.
He's talking to the mirror and he's talking to the wall.
I'm sure I know you but you've changed,
Like both our lives were re arranged.
Like stepping back through time and space, I want to recognize his face.
I want to scream out loud his name, a name I can't recall.
The man talking in the mirror, while I'm talking to the wall.
I want to find my home and run, back the place that I came from.
I'll chase it down, retrace my steps and when I reach those old familiar, echoes in the hall.
I'll be home. Not talking to the mirror, or talking to the wall.
There was a place I used to dwell, before I met this living hell 
there was a man I used to see, now i'm not sure which one is me
And in the place I used to thrive, when mind and soul where both alive
I'm trying hard to recognize, I see them both through tired eyes.
I just remembered who they were, then suddenly it's all a blur
They re friends, I like to call.................
Him talking in the mirror, and him talking to the wall.

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Comments +

Comments1

  • L. B. Mek

    'Because talking to the mirror, beats talking to the wall.'
    'So I'll talk to the mirror, and you talk to the wall.'
    'He's talking to the mirror and he's talking to the wall.'
    'The man talking in the mirror, while I'm talking to the wall.'
    'I'll be home. Not talking to the mirror, or talking to the wall.'
    'There was a place I used to dwell, before I met this living hell
    there was a man I used to see, now i'm not sure which one is me
    And in the place I used to thrive, when mind and soul where both alive
    I'm trying hard to recognize, I see them both through tired eyes.
    I just remembered who they were, then suddenly it's all a blur
    They re friends, I like to call.................
    Him talking in the mirror, and him talking to the wall.'..
    (these words, you've penned to showcase
    that geometrical - multiplicative, graduation method
    of Introspection, yielded acceptance
    of that Self, we mostly spend our lives
    hiding-from and repressing...)
    a brave and meaningful write/message, dear poet
    thank you for sharing

    • Chris Duffy

      Thank you for the comment. I’m always interested on other poet’s take on this obscure piece and I’ve been asked what it’s about?

      The answer as you have so rightly observed is that it’s about your perception.


      Kind regards.


      Chris Duffy.



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