Of Gods and Mirrors

A poem

Photo by Nathan Cima on Unsplash

I see myself reflected
in the still pool beneath the willow —
a creature of soft bones, hollow
like the reed pipes of Pan,
bent low in the arc of this broken world.

I carry the weight of myth
in my spine, vertebrae
stacked like stones
from temple ruins, each step
a sacrifice, each breath
a stolen flame.

Echoes of a thousand suns
singe my skin, the whispers
of gods long forgotten,
pressed into my skull like crowns
I never wanted to wear.

I feel their pulse in my chest,
the hum of immortality
grating against my mortal sinews —
the taut stretch
between divine and dust,
between wings and wax.

And still, I walk among them,
a thread pulled tight,
waiting for the snap,
the fall from Olympus
that will unmake me.

In the end, I will be
just a name
etched into stone —
no longer a face in the pool,
no longer a creature
woven from light and shadow
but dust, rising
on the breath of gods.

© Ani Eldritch, 2024.