The Reflection

He had (every) reason to be angry

And yet no reason at all;

Betrayed by love, by friends,

By superiors, yet

Befriended by the poor and lowly

Of the town.

 

Told to take a Hard look at himself,

He went to a nearby pond

Stared at his face in the subtle ripples

The distorted bending of his features,

‘til he threw not a pebble,

But a sizeable rock in the middle

Of his watery reflection and watched

His face explode into numberless bits

Of light, color, and shadows on the surface.

 

It felt good to see his own form eventually

Come back together on the pond,

Gently wavering, slowly simmering

Into a clearer picture of who he was.

 

C. S. Cholas, undated