through a glass darkly

the face in the mirror, the one

that is hard to look at with it's
vague stepford smile, is not you.

your face is not you.

your fear is not you.

you are not your monkey.

you are in here. come inside.
look out on this day
with your feral child eyes.

look out from the warmth of your own true light,

the soft you that was made in the image of Love

Who made the first morning of the world.

you are not your legs.
you are not your painted fingernails.
you are not your borrowed face.