In His Image

Across the table, where there stands no mirror
I see myself—sitting and staring through my own body
Feel the beams of vision pierce through my sternum
Pressing into matter that pumps blood through my beating heart
Meandering around bones and fibers that carry my being
Shooting out of my back, into an unknown corner of this room
The eyes that are mine, and the eyes that are his
As his is ours, and mine is his
For we are us, and he is I
One the same, until we die
We aren’t a ‘we’, we are together
Is used again, for reality tether
It is in me, it is the eye
It is a watchful, passing sigh
To fly around inside his head
That some may say is filled with lead
Jagged cliffs of jarring matter
Jewels of shine—a Jacob’s ladder
To live up to his pleading call
The list of boxes, to check them all
To live fulfilled in the eyes of we
To jump inside his head and see
The view of me from the eyes of us
Would twist and turn and meld to rust
A sting familiar as a bee
Slips inside our brainy tree
With roots as dense and thick as fog
The sting gets lost among the bog
What was it now, what could it be
That thing that slipped from out our tree
The train that traveled was stole away
Crashed in two—dead to lay
A smirk from across his tables side
Sinister, angled—singed with pride
He stole it from me, once again
The thought, the break through—
A spontaneous den
Where I would go, free from him
To dance around, out on the rim
Untouched, unbroken—this place was mine
Not his, not ours—my own lifeline
But he always comes back, creeping in
Stealing, shouting, leaving sin
Pain that grows and fails to stop
Pain that shatters, reels, and chops
This side screams for sweet release
From that side’s challenge of disbelief
But once again, he slices hard
He cuts and jams and slams his guard
He makes it known that he controls
The ebbs and flows of this side’s goals
While that side rips and tears at me
This side listens to the tee
The time when his fat mouth will shut
I’ll climb out from this harrowed rut
Free of charge, of his sour tongue
Across the golden fields I’ll run
I’ll soar at heights only seen by birds
I’ll make it known to him, and heard
That I am in the driver’s seat
The one that takes the reins to feat
I’ll climb, I’ll raise, I’ll jump at length
I’ll step each stride with all my strength
Below my feet, I’ll tread on you
The rotten, evil, shit you spew
For once in time, for once in me
I’ll find the piece that makes me be
Aligned with who I always was
And who I could become because
Within the power, within the seed
This side drags that side’s lead
But every now, and every again
He’ll catch me sleeping in the glen
Under shady canopies roof
He’ll backhand strictly, giving proof
I’ll wake and shudder from his return
The anger, hell, and hatred burn
His evidence of this side’s fall
He steps on back, eyes appall
At details that define my soul
He rants and raves and takes his toll
How can he, who is me
See the things he tries to see
In me the things he brings about
With focus on the dreary doubt
I have in me, and what could be
My own reflection that I see

One thought on “In His Image

  1. What a beautiful, frightening, and intense look at what goes on inside each of us. This poem really evokes a lot of emotion. Beautifully written. 💖


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