Monday Morning Musings:
“Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.”–From Sylvia Plath, “Mirror”
“Did you ever wonder if the person in the puddle is real, and you’re just a reflection of him?”
–Bill Watterson, Calvin and Hobbes
In the window
the world is reflected
prismed into colors bright
the blue of sky
and clouds of white
refracted sites
ripple and sway
changing as you walk
then fading away
unlike skyscrapers
that here still stand
monuments to technology
in reflections,
magic,
a slight of hand.
Now in the puddle
the world is upside down
in shades of beige and grey
diffused light
scattered over slate
and rippling away
carried to the river
then onwards
to the sea
but here
are windows closed
as eyes asleep
and minds imprisoned
in worlds of fancy
and dreams
of children
go unheeded
unheard, unseen
in cages
they perish
swept away
by the latest news
of violence
and thoughts and prayers
go out
to remove the games
and images
but not the guns
they remain–
see, they’re not to blame
and cash
wills out
with slaps on the back
for the boys
are boys
who grow to be men
and abuse
again
and again.
And what do they see
in their reflections?
Do they stop to reflect
on the people
they harm?
I read of survivors
who try to forgive
when they
can never forget–
we must never forget
the sights refracted
in sunshine and rain,
and here we sit
holding time still
for a moment,
if we could with will
in vino veritas,
and truth there is
that there is beauty
and light
and days when things
are just right,
moments granted
even when
the world is slanted
cock-eyed, the mother
becomes the child,
but when she laughs
you wonder what’s real
and see your reflection
there she and you
and she will never go
to the river again
but here a bird calls–
Hear it?
Listen and wonder
what does it see?
There its reflection
in the water
it looks at me.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 
Always, your Monday musings reflect a wonderful week you shared with your loved one(s).
Omigosh does that Sylvia Plath quote speak to me…
Thank you very much, Dale.
If you get a chance, read the whole poem. It’s sort of every woman.
I will!
So much to reflect upon, here, like other worlds glimpsed in different stages as life goes on. A window pane, a puddle, waves that hint at different directions – yet none of them providing any answers.
Thank you, Ken.
I told you I have “a thing” for reflections. 🙂 But no answers.
‘she will never go to the river again’
such a lot of pathos in those few words.
The world as a reflection of itself, perhaps life is better at the other side of the puddle.
Thank you, Jane.
A few weeks ago when we took my mom to my sister’s house, we realized it was such an ordeal that we’d never be doing it again, or really taking her anywhere.
Yes, the other side of the puddle–or through the looking glass! 🙂
I imagine it’s physically exhausting for you and frustrating for her. You have to decide that some things just aren’t possible any more.
Yes. It’s true.
Wonderful musings, Merril. I’ve never heard the Watterson quote before…I enjoyed it. So nice to see your sweet mother.
Thank you very much, Jill.
The quote is from one of his comic strips. I looked it up to make certain it was real. 🙂
The photo was actually from earlier in the summer, but we did sit outside together on Friday.
“we must never forget” … no, indeed, we must never forget. I struggle with forgiveness. Lovely photo of you and your mom. ❤️
Thank you very much, Marie. 🙂
Oh I love those last lines! And I love those reflective photos too.
It was heartbreaking when we realized my mother was no longer able to go anywhere. The shrinking world…and yet what images still mirror through those eyes? Worlds we can never know, though we can touch them now and again. (K)
Thank you so much, Kerfe.
Yes, it’s all so difficult.
I don’t know why I’m so fond of reflections.
Beautiful words and photos, Merril.
Thank you so much, Charlotte!
Ah, yes, I love reflections as well. I posted a pic of my daughter’s cat on Instagram looking through the door, and I loved how you could see both a piece of furniture behind her and the flagstone outside. Likewise, I love your photos, as well. I am particularly fond of the building within a building as for some reason the concept of that always stops me in my tracks. I don’t know why!
Thanks, Luanne! I like that one, too. I’ve actually done a few versions because I’ve walked by there often, and it always catches my eye.
I also love van Eyck’s Arnolfini Portrait-the one with the couple and the mirror reflecting everything. I’ve been fascinated by it since I was a child. Ohh–now there’s going to be a poem. See what you’ve done–again? 🙂
YAY!!!!!!!!!!! Go for it!!!!
🙂
Wonderful reflective verse and images. Your mother never going to the river again says so much; and your sensitivity to the slanted world is potent
Thank you very much, Derrick.
I probably mentioned this before: One Sunday morning driving into downtown Jacksonville, Cliff was so mesmerized by a skyscraper reflection he nearly plowed into the car ahead of us. I screamed. He put on the brake. Accident averted.
I’m glad you can touch your mother in ways that don’t involve crossing the river again. This is a powerful reflection!
I’m not sure if you have mentioned it, Marian. So funny–but I guess it might have been awful.
Thank you very much for your kind words.
I love the way this reads outloud and all the reflections.
Thank you very much, Janice!
This had a lot for me to reflect upon, Merril. My heart and thoughts are full and tears shed for what is coming. I liked the bird (possibly a heron?) flying above you, along the river as well as your pensive words.
Thank you so much, Robin. Yes, I know you also have similar thoughts with your mom and things going on in your life.
I think the bird was a vulture. 🙂
There is a beautiful melancholy to your musings this week. (Or maybe it’s my own reflection of your words?) Your reflection images are wonderful and go so well with your lovely arrangement of words. ♥
Aww–thank you so much, Robin. I might have been feeling melancholy–lots going on, and then I felt kind of sick on Sunday. . .
A beautiful reflection on reflection, so much in this, and one to come back to.
Thank you very much. I appreciate your kind and thoughtful words.
Most welcome.
Sigh!!! Sweet.
Thank you! 🙂