Mirror to My Soul by Heather Mirassou

My past is but a dream. My present, an insatiable appetite for life. My future, predetermined and out of sight.

Oh but to be young again, to begin again, to find me again. Who would I aspire to be?

Through the looking-glass, I see a mirror image of me. Free to be who I am with no preconceptions, expectations or promises to keep. Only a silent treasure chest of dreams only I can see. Only a panoramic view of what is the best I can be.

Perhaps, I would fly overseas and travel countries in poverty, recording adversity and atrocities.

Perhaps, I would study the stars and galaxies.

Perhaps, I would march in pride and diversity.

Perhaps, I would study archaeology, geology or history.

Perhaps, I would see Simon or Garfunkel in Central Park in New York City.

Perhaps, I would sail alone on the open seas.

Perhaps, I would visit my native France and Italy.

A dream is a dream, but through the looking-glass, I can see and be the best of what has made me.

I will continue to record life, love, and history through my poetry. My self-made dreams connecting in this irony.

Dedicated to: My sons Trevor Edmund Mirassou and Brandon Timothy Borden