Sorcerer Poem by Angela Bontle Ditumiso

The hour strikes twelve
The day tears itself down from the present
Immediately becomes past

The new day is so young
Everything is brittle, vulnerable even
The mirror has exchanged her hard exterior for liquid silver

She runs out of the light she refracted
For a moment she's naked, true to herself
She falls to the floor
Cries her pain to sobriety

Then day comes and she's again tough
Reflects all the smiles people throw at her
Deceives everyone into thinking she's happy

She will again lose herself
When darkness crawls in,
Sorcerer