I saw the grief in the mirror.
Eyes heavy-lidded, swollen.
Something stolen.

I was the grief.
No relief.
I was the thief.

Years went by with stricken eye.
Heart in pain, eyes filled with rain.
I was insane.

Suddenly I saw a light in my eye.
No need to cry.
An opening into a valley,
a rainbow revealed to an uplifted gaze.
No more haze.

How things unfold when the
tale is told.
How dark and light no longer fight.
And I grow bold.

I was the light in the mirror.
I was the light in my eye.
No life, no death, no answer why.
Something’s born when something dies.

Vicki Woodyard