Staring at the expressionless reflection on the other side of the mirror
Searching for the hopes and dreams and aspirations that once became me
Praying for a change in the future when the women of my age realize that their body is a temple and sacred to God
Wishing what if and if only
If only I could relive the past, undo the regret, and keep only the life lesson
But isn’t the art of living, in fact the act of procession?
I don’t know, maybe I just don’t get it
It seems like I’m living in a secretly segregated society where blacks secretly hate whites
And whites secretly hate blacks
And with every color in between there is a problem
Cops with crooked intents
Gone, is another life full of innocence
Retaliation on the minds of those seeking justice
What happened to that peaceful nature of protests?
Peace and justice go hand in hand with prayer, remember that!
I’m stuck in a society where men feel it’s okay to lay a hand on their woman and claim they love her
And women can desert their children and still proclaim she is a mother
And if I can see all of this in a reflection what does that say about my perception of life?
Unable to fully recognize the girl I see staring back at me
It seems as though life has played its number yet made her stronger and weaker at the same time
More self-aware and conscious of her surroundings
Yet fully unaware of the transformations taking place within her
She’s flawlessly radiant, but she has no clue
She’s taught herself to be cold hearted and detached
A mask of protection
She’s afraid of getting too close for the fear of being wounded and rejected
She’s jaded, not faded, but already gone
She chose the “book” route
Searching for her existence through knowledge
Knowledge, the only love she’s ever known
Working her way up so that she’s not another statistic on a website
Eager to be another young African American to make a headline
No Trayvon Martin
She never had anything to show for yet she’s willing to give it all
And if I can see all of this in a reflection what does that say about my perception of this lower class black girl with curly hair, a round belly, and a flat ass?
Like mist slowly clearing from a bathroom mirror
She can see the image clearer
Flawlessly radiant, a heart of gold, and a smile to kill for
She knows exactly who she is and where she’s going because she’s confident
Determined to make her story a successful one
A problem solver
Ready to lend an ear although not easily reciprocated
Yet she’s still broken
And if I can see all of this in a reflection what does that say about my perception of me?