Sunday, December 28, 2008


Maria R. Palacios

Transcript is below the fold

Mirror,mirror on the wall, whose the cripple of us all? I used to hate my body, cringe at the thought of a mirror, deformities staring at me, pobrecita poor little thing.  Ssshh don't look, don't ask, that's when I was cripple girl in a barbie world. Sssh don't talk, she'll never walk.  She will never know love, the mirror used to say that, and I used to believe it.  Every mirror used to scream at me, there's no prince charming, no magic slipper that fits feet bound my orthopaedic shoes and the cold embrace of steel against my virgin skin.  Who could possibly love me I thought.  That was the testimony of a crippled girl.  Lost in a pair of shoes, lost behind the sharp blade of words that stabbed and poked and sliced hope into little pieces.  The same pieces I picked up one by one until they became me.  Mirror mirror on the wall, it took years of soul searching and doubt, lovers that came and went.  It took years of empty beds and angry mirrors, nights of solo play beneath the sheets and thousands of sheep to count afterwards.  No cigarette to puff, no many chest where poems can rest, after I cum there was none of that, only the silence of hands between my thighs.  Nights of wishing to find evidence of a man, the sound of sports, and even socks or a pillow that smelled of cologne.  But the men that came and went did not stay long enough to leave their scent on my pillow, to leave the toilet seat up or forget to take the trash out.  They were just warm bodies without a name, one size fits all, one night stands Cinderella stories gone flat.  No fairy godmother not evil stepmother no curse or spell that could change me back into something I never was.  It took years of all that and more, yet my present testimony is a manifesto of self love, reconciliation between mirror and soul.  Mirror, mirror on the wall, I became women of deep experience and deep scars,woman of hope.  Woman who learned to love the image in the mirror, the uneven angles of misunderstood sexuality, the unruly edges of my physical being.  I became woman of words. Mirror mirror on the wall, my imperfections become art, unwinding my twisted roads.  You are so beautiful to me.  You are so beautiful, that's what I am.  Oh mirror friend of mine, I am love, acceptance, forgiveness and beauty redefined.  The sacredness of this body, is where my soul resides.  I am a temple of love, I don't need a man to make me whole.  Yes my testimony is one of survival and strength, an intense love affair with myself, with the woman in the mirror.  The one I used to hate to see, the one whose reflection I feared, the one that is now so dear to me.  You are so beautiful to me.  Mirror mirror on the wall, whose the goddess of us all?

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