Broken Mirror

By Leena Kadam

Scattered therein rests

The broken pieces

Of the clean crystal-clear mirror

That has just slipped off the rusted nail.

It had been sophisticatedly executed

On the wall that faced

My wide window.

The wide window of my room

Became my eyes to see the beauty

Of this not so beautiful world.

The mirror provided me with

A happy landscape

That energised me to look out for

Reasons to be happy

And thereby ask for more of the

Forbidden beauty of the world.

But how did the mirror slip?

I always ensured to meticulously

Clean the dust off it and

Delicately straighten its position

(So that the view it shows me is not crooked)

O! Now I see the loop hole!

I now learn that the

Nail it was executed On,

Was hut a rusted one.

How could I not realise that a rusted nail

Can never do good,

Neither to itself

Not to any external acquaintance!

And I instantly learnt my lesson,

The hard way.

Now, I saw myself

As the mirror sees itself.

Clearly broken.

Broken and shapeless,

Unevenly scattered,

Some chipped off and

Some holding sharp edged pieces.

No mirror

No reflection

No landscape

No beauty,

Now it is all about

Plain broken reality.

By Leena Kadam