The man in the mirror


Sometime staring in the mirror I realize that I am in many ways a stranger to myself. I wonder who it is that I resemble most. With whose brown eyes am I staring and what stranger’s broad strong nose is that? Where did I get my straight smooth teeth and sly, charming grin? Is my sense of humor my own or is it another blind inheritance. Standing tall and proud, I speculate that I might have been cloaked in greatness or worn the robes of a wise man. Perhaps the path that led to me was one of magnificent struggle and conquest. Possibly I was a beggar or soldier afraid of killing or being killed. I have always known that struggle was and is a part of my worldview. The part of which I am that keeps me humble and tentative. The chronic psychic turmoil stirs the conflicting elements of my make up and serving to balance one component against the other. Stumbling boldly through the ages and stages of man I find myself redefined and configured. I have come to realize that time and understanding is as fluid and ever changing as the tides of the ocean.
Everyday I am reminded that my story is incomplete for I have many missing pieces. Constantly shifting positions on issues of heritage, lineage and the power and potency of genetics is enough to befuddle the sharpest mind. The painfully slow progress of my own understanding sometime causes me pause. They cannot understand that I am not sure. Not sure that I am good enough. Not sure that I am strong enough. Not sure that I am sharp enough. Not sure that I am worthy. I know in the place where reason dwells that I am capable of brilliance. I have even reveled in it at times. The warmth of clarity sometime shoots through my veins like white blood cells battling the dreary infectious poison of doubt and fear. Still I stand head bowed and unwilling to fall. In the fear of falling I stand trapped in hesitation. This hesitation that has taken decades to form tightening slowly until it chokes me with fear. The world mislabels us as we stumble and dance deftly out of the way of success. Over the years I have begun to see. I work my way out of my fear and offer one writing at a time as proof. I will get better still, more concise as I pluck out the sharp prongs that have so thoroughly embedded themselves around my soul. I am a warrior for love in a battle fought inside. Inside the walls and caverns of my own head. My soul inspires me with the light that will not burn out. I am coming and I am confident.