Oracle Poem by Don Pearson

Everyone has mirrored walls.
Visitors see images,
Guess at depth and distance,
Form their own reality
Obscured even from itself.

Most expressions I filter
To the spectrum of my choice.
Some escape me; you may feel
some warmth which bathes you,
some chill that drains me.

But you don’t want to see my face
I am to give you answers,
You draw at my well,
And leave me thirsty,
Too tired to drink.

In my words you see yourselves
They all have many meanings,
To you, to me, to watchers in the dark.
Have I led your life?
Have you led mine?

I am the darkness in the heart.
To raise this gorgon’s hood
And care to see inside
Will leave you turned to stone
And not help me.

Feb/Aug 2001