glass and dust,
light and darkness,
I know my reflection well
(I don't recognize the woman in the mirror)

her eyes are weary,
her hair in cobwebs,
her hands shaking in satin shackles
(I see a tired woman in the mirror)

her eyes are cruel,
her smile is silver fangs,
her hands have daggers instead of nails
(I see a warrior in the mirror)

her eyes sparkle,
her mouth set in a plastered half-grin,
her face powdered up, her lips painted red
(I see splendor hidden beneath beauty)

her eyes are black,
her cheeks stained by dry tears,
her lips shiver in mute prayers
(I see a dying woman)

I'm no Venus, no Helen of Troy
(no symbol, no legend)
I am the two-faced Janus
in a castle of crystal,
in a cave of gold,
in a fortress of stone

I have no walls and too many doors -
I have no need for mirrors
there are too many women,
too many faces begging to be seen

(which wolf wins?
the one you feed)

which one is me?

the one I choose
and I choose
glory instead of ruin

articol scris de Nereia Crișan

fotograf Mihnea Lazăr