The pond

Of my reflection in the pond
I’m struck by its emptiness
The cold stare of the water
the solitude, the loneliness

A two dimensional image
with a form nonexistent
An odd absence of sparkle
yet sorrowfully persistent

The eyes they burn soulless
as they stare back at me
The water, of course,
lacks any real humanity

It should be teeming with life
yet it instead betrays none
No warmth ‘neath the surface
no light save the distant sun

I set my finger upon the mirror
and the ripples envelop me
An ever cascading distortion
of my entire reality

As my hand reaches deeper
I anticipate the reaction
With each passing moment
I witness waves of refraction

Then quite unexpectedly
I stand without a sound
I’m staring up at myself
as if viewed from the ground

My reflection slowly turns
begins a mournful retreat
I desperately want to call,
my voice unwilling to speak

I don’t understand,
I don’t know how can this be
Unless I am the pond
and it’s he who’s like me

art: Through the water by Samantha French