Shadows

Shadows

A mirror, shadows and reflections.

I am what I see and fear:

a strong woman, all muscles and pain.

I must pick up each one of the helpless  pieces of my memory,

frozen quilts of my discontentment

which need stitches, needles and silver threads.

My life needs mending, the torn pieces left aside urge for oxygen...

The mirror is my boundary

although no safe limits are granted, 

just my dizzy mind.

What do I really know about me?

I'm afraid I don't have the slightest idea...

Maybe I have just a vague impression,

a faded black and white photo,

wrapped up in an delusive album made of old toys, 

untouched boxes and familiar melodies...

Wanda Lucia

Rio de Janeiro, June,  1998

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Page created on August, 30, 2001