Aged Mirrors (82) Poem by Raquel Angel Nagler

Aged Mirrors (82)



Inside us:
Hours old as pain.
All our names unite.
They become a sigh.


Little by little we realize
All our answers
Are as blind, as aching
As our questions.


Evening.
The last hour of the last day.
We still justify ourselves
To ourselves.




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From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com

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