Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
I am my Mother after all!
I don’t know who rewrote the Grimm Brothers lines;
But Mom gave me a pillow,
with those words in needlepoint.
I hid it away, for fear they would come true.
At my sister’s house one day,
I saw another pillow, just the same
She said she leaves it out… as a deterrent.
So now, I leave mine out too,
but its not working.

Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
I am my Mother after all!
She bought those pillows at some store,
but I remember
Mom made things like that,
and beautiful cakes and decorations
with a theme –-- like my princess birthday
Complete with knight in shining armor
and pointed hat with veil.
Then she married my “dad”
and had no more time for us.
Sis came along after that.
So all she remembers
is me doing those sorts of things.

Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
I am my Mother after all!
Not the toxic, Queen of Control,
who was so jealous of what she saw as my freedom, from kids and obligation.
She never understood,
family was all I ever craved.
So, she punished me,
demanding payment for everything
I fought back and won in the end; I walked away.
But every battle won was a pyrrhic victory,
with costs not in blood,
but resentment and regret,
in tears of anger and the pain of unseen wounds, inflicted without care.

Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
I am my Mother after all,
for she gave me a love of language, and words.
She taught me to think for myself,
to stand up for what I believe in,
and to be free, even though it pissed her off,
as often as it did me.
She also gave me her face,
that I see in that mirror, every day.
I am lucky;
since that is only place I still can see it.
Despite the conflicts, I miss her every day
And wish I could say
Mirror, Mirror on the Wall,
I am my Mother, after all.

Story ID:	3725
Written by:	Penelope Rose (bio, contact, other stories)
Organization:	Sinte Gleska University Writers Club
Story type:	Poem
Location:	Mission SD USA
Year:	2008