Aerin wrote:tomb
I remember when mirrors weren’t reflections but windows
To a frozen reversal of here
And when a pair of trees became columns
Framing a doorway to neighboring spheres
I remember scrawling maps leading to buried treasure
And reciting chants to keep ghosts at bay
I remember weeping for fear of the curses
That seemed to follow me every day.
But mirrors are now tools in the quest for perfection
Maps aren’t for treasure but to navigate downtown
Trees are for shade, not for summoning magic
And chants before tests help get knowledge down.
Curses are for hurling at the bus that I missed
Or for muttering at strangers who stare
And the only ghost I believe in is that of myself
But I try to pretend it’s not there.
6/19/03
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