Through the Mirror

Into words      into stars          into another dissection of who we are            who we were     who we long to be            I am still in that treehouse      still hiding in the leaves         if memory is my master     I am its dog          wouldn’t I be clever     if I could put it all together         wouldn’t I be the one calling the shots        mock me with riddles      ridicule me with rhymes                      you know I have no power                 that I am afraid to be alive