Anonymous Self
by Odin Roark

Once of water,
man first eyed himself, perhaps leaning into drink,
club in one hand,
food clenched firmly in the other.

Come today…

How arresting first glance must be
while a mother hovers,
cooing with pride.
The infant stares up,
a crib’s mobile of heart-mirrors
reflecting images just beginning.

Sooner or later…

Such imitative visuals become real,
revealing deception’s potency,
impelling actuality into the shadows,
affording inner truth little chance.

Such becomes one’s accepted reflection.
A three-way mirror.
What others see.
What might be.
What is inexorable.

Façade’s reflection

Vague,
invented,
contorted
mired,
forged.

Some realize that one’s truth
never needs a mirror for confirmation,
that anonymous self is inner truth,
ultimately allowing deception
to leave not another trace.