Chasing mirror

In my mind a mirror stands

like a tree in low flat lands

watching it I have to see

who I am, what is me.


In the wood a mirror stands

I know everything depends

on what I will see in the glass

sitting on that quiet grass.


I am sure a mirror stays

where I go, in every place

he is always chasing me

like a stubborn mobile tree

but I always run away

because I don’t want to play

because I don’t want to know

the bad truth that stays below.


(I wrote this poem when I was 17 or 18, as homework for my high school English class)


I also made a poster version of this poem, for conferences/exhibitions:

Alice Damiano--poem forest 2


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