Doors And Mirrors Poem by Sonya Florentino
Doors And Mirrors
We close doors
to lock ourselves in
or lock ourselves out
To keep things in
and keep things out
Knock-knock:
Who’s there?
- 'You! '
Me?
- 'Yes, you! '
Who ARE you?
- 'Me? You! I am you! '
That can’t be, I am me.
Once again, who ARE you?
- 'Well, if you just let me in.....I'd show you! '
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who’s that knocking on my door?
What? You DON'T hear it at all?
a profound idea; dealt with intelligence...sonya.i liked it....
This one is very cleverly written Sonya...it is up to the reader to take the view he wants....
A curious poem with a myriad of possible meanings. Perhaps it is a philosophical debate about the meaning of life and the ultimate non-duality of all things; or perhaps it might be read as a more light-hearted affair - a Goon-like conversation such as Min and Henry might have. I recall a similar scene in one episode of the Goons which was particularly funny. Whatever the meaning, the poem 'works'! Excellent, thought-provoking and always poetic. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Very true and full of interesting nuances! You won´t find yourself however much you look into the mirror if you have locked parts of yourself out.
Your identity as an excellent poet is unquestionable. 10 from your friend in poetry and life, Sandra
Nice insightful write Sonya, I would have liked to have read the original. Paddy
The curious question of identity shouts from every line of this multi-layered, thought provoking poem. S :)
Can we become all we can be? Can we open our heart to all our potential? Can we leave behind the rubbish we pass through on our way to finding ourselves? Or will it stick to us forever like muddy boots and dirty clothes? a great poem. I like it. Maybe everyone should talk to themselves more often to find out who they really are. A great write. I love the new ending, it's fantastic. a poet friend RH peat
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 9:09:01 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Sonya: door, door on the wall..who's that knocking on my mirror? Everything seems like a mirror when you're in the citadel of self, seems to be what this poem is saying. Anyway it's pretty startling, and some clever crafting by you; your special touch.