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| Man Ray |
The Other
Side of the Mirror
I
sat before my glass one day,
And
conjured up a vision bare,
Unlike
the aspects glad and gay,
That
erst were found reflected there -
The
vision of a woman, wild
With
more than womanly despair.
Her
hair stood back on either side
A
face bereft of loveliness.
It
had no envy now to hide
What
once no man on earth could guess.
It
formed the thorny aureole
Of
hard, unsanctified distress.
Her
lips were open - not a sound
Came
though the parted lines of red,
Whate'er
it was, the hideous wound
In
silence and secret bled.
No
sigh relieved her speechless woe,
She
had no voice to speak her dread.
And
in her lurid eyes there shone
The
dying flame of life's desire,
Made
mad because its hope was gone,
And
kindled at the leaping fire
Of
jealousy and fierce revenge,
And
strength that could not change nor tire.
Shade
of a shadow in the glass,
O
set the crystal surface free!
Pass
- as the fairer visions pass -
Nor
ever more return, to be
The
ghost of a distracted hour,
That
heard me whisper: - 'I am she!'
Mary Coleridge
“Unsanctified
distress.” !! Sometimes the
words fit like they're made for you.
Mary wrote this more than a hundred years ago, and yet she feels so
close. As if she were just on the other side of the glass. I
wonder if her “distracted hour” did pass. I wonder when mine
will.
