Girl Before a Mirror, by Barbara Johnstone

Girl Before a Mirror, by Pablo Picasso (Spain) 1932

Girl Before a Mirror 
 
One of us is pregnant.
She did what we animals do, or,
it was done to her; she cannot know
what is reflection and what is real. 
Hundreds of eyes,
the air is heavy with them,
are grasping for her womb.                              
She is a moon girl so parts of her                   
are missing.  
The sun girl glares through fire; 
she does not know
that sun striking the mirror
could turn our world to ash.                   
We do not know if mirror girl looks  
through scarf or shroud,
how long she will be without air.
No. I will not see, 
moon girl blocks with her hand, 
this is not happening;
her other hand touches
mirror girl’s shoulder.

Barbara Johnstone

Barbara Johnstone lives near Seattle, WA where she came from the desert beauty of New Mexico for the tall trees, lush greenery, rivers and ocean of the Pacific Northwest.  She worked for 43 years as a psychotherapist, providing individual and couples therapy.  Her fifth-grade teacher inspired her love of poetry and she memorized and wrote poems privately until eventually (at 64) she began to attend readings, take workshops and send work out.  Poems are in a variety of journals including Pilgrimage, Persimmon Tree, Diagram and Crosswinds Poetry Journal.