Through A Glass, Darkly

1 Corinthians 13:12

my hand groping for my glasses

when I wake in the night, my eyes

reaching through the dark

that is close around me, closing

my reflection as I stand

barefoot before the mirror

my bedroom empty of light

and I dissolving in my nightgown

nothing but a shadow blooming

then out of the gloom

a glimmer: my dark eyes peering

trying to find the edges

of myself, searching for

something more certain

*

how we see

or think we see, ourselves

things outside of and within us

things that are bigger than we are

for now, this waiting for my eyes

to adjust to the dark

and later to the light:

when morning comes

I'll push aside the curtains

and be blinded

how we know

to wait for the light to return

so we can see more clearly who we are

and what makes light

and what it is we're made of

*

my hand now scribbling these lines

in the dark, birthing a poem

I cannot see myself

bringing forth the words

from black of wet womb

into the blanketed grey

pushing it out

this slippery living thing

trusting your hands

will be there to catch it

--Emily Ruth Hazel

More of Emily's work can be found in Body & Soul: Poems by Emily Ruth Hazel (Finishing Line Press). Email maria@redeemer.com for information on how to order. Emily also appears in the second edition of RedeemerWrites, and she will read at the IAF Summer Showcase.