(journey Inwards Collection) .... Reflecting (Or Not Medusa)
Am I no more than a mirror?
by Janice Windle
I reflect pale Narcissus.
Bending to my fluid face.
He sees only his own beauty
Reflected in my eyes.
I reflect Don Juan
Who sees in my adoring gaze
Confirmation of his power
Over women caught in the headlight glare
Of his own masculinity.
I reflect the joker in the pack,
The card, Jack the lad,
Who in my quick responses,
My loud applause, will never see a bore
Reflected in the prompt screen I hold up.
I reflect the aesthete,
Appreciate his finer points;
Frame his sensibilities; read him like a book
Represent to him his muse,
Put value on his higher consciousness.
I reflect the workman;
Celebrate his solid practicality
By comments on his skill
And admiration of his labours,
Wonder at the use he makes of tools.
I shall reflect
Upon the image of myself
In the bright bronze shield
Carried by a man who angles it on me
And I’ll not be turned to stone.