I Do Not Believe in Mirrors

 

I Do Not Believe in Mirrors

(“And all who sat in the council looked intently at him, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel. Acts 6:15)

I do not believe there are mirrors in heaven,
and they do a disservice here on earth.
You can never see you the way I see you,
everything is reversed.
So angels walk among us brightly,
but, hidden behind the scripts written
by time and overactive minds,
the best of us believe the reflections
of glass
instead of the creation ex nihilo
spoken: our name pronounced out loud by
the One who is unpronounceable.

I do believe there are best friends in heaven,
the same as the ones who tell us of the sun they see
in our distorted faces.
You, my friend, have been starlight when night what black,
moonlight when the sky cracked with thunder,
sunlight when the rain locked me indoors and alone.
I have seen your face shine at the same time
you avoided mirrors and took down self-portraits on your wall.

I do not believe there are angels in heaven,
they are all here in service on earth.
You see them better than they see themselves,
they think they are bound to time and nations.
But they are a best friend, a beggar,
a grandmother aging, a mother giving birth,
an immigrant making masa; an unlocked door,
an open kitchen, a hug that never lets go,
a gaze that say, “I know, I know, I know.”

You, my friend, again, have been an angel,
mostly on the days you thought there was far too much
pain
for your face to shine. All I know,
but for my angels, I would not like my
reflection at all.