Talking to that Stranger in the Mirror

Today the sun shines white,
through the thick mist, in a whitish sky –
as it often happens on cold mornings,
after a heavy downpour -
when the frogs were dancing in the rain,
in our sleepy old green valley…

And I saw her again –
in the rear mirror, as I was driving:
the same hardened eyes -
though I thought I noticed a tinge of sadness there…
the same hardened lines around the lips -
biting back harsh words that hurt, words that sting…
and it’s the same stubborn jaw,
which seems to say it all,
without having to frame the words -
no, not a word, none at all…

I could tell she was sad – her emotions in turmoil –
from the sad look in the hardened face…
i know that her heart bleeds, too,
at each hurting word – from someone she loves…
i could see that she is calm –
just like the calm before and after a big, big storm…
and I know what is going on in her mind -
from the glazed look in those dark brown eyes…

There are things that she would not say -
and others that she could not voice out, nor say,
but I think I know how she feels, for deep down -
beneath the hard shell, she’s still humane…
and she still bleeds -
and she still cries...
deep down – where it hurts most;
and she has no one to blame:
she brought it all upon herself –
trouble after trouble…

The subdued look of defeat, of acceptance, of remorse -
that I’ve seen before, is there…
and it seems to say that many other dreams are built -
on a broken dream every day;
so why cry over one broken dream,
no matter how great or how sweet it may have been…?
why not dream another dream that is more beautiful –
and just let broken dreams die…?