My mirror often tells me things
Uncomfortable to know-
The crows’ feet around my eyes,
The wrinkles on my brow-
My eyes look out and speak to me
Of accumulated years,
Of all the richness in my life,
Of all the hidden tears-
There was no pedestal at my feet,
Why did you place it there?
You know I have no head for heights;
I barely climb a stair!
Pedestals are dangerous things:
They ask strange things of you;
Things you cannot comprehend,
Things you cannot do-
Pedestals are so fragile:
They’ve no life of their own,
Empowered with another’s thoughts,
Withdrawn, you’re left alone!
And someday when the cracks appear
They crumble at a touch,
And I’ll be left with reflections
Of when I meant so much…
Give me no pedestals now,
Reality suits me best:
The wrinkles and the heartaches
Spell a gentle rest…