Stern face in the old mirror
as I pass by.
As time goes do I get clearer?
I catch my eye.
Seeing the self I call “my,”
who is that one?
Stranger, friend, face so wry,
father? Son?

Light with flesh around it, planet, sun,
orbiting sphere?
Who gives the orders: “Walk! Run!”
Anyone here?

Always a stranger in this world.
Strange shape in the mirror, face
unfurled!

18 Ramadan (night)
(from Ramadan Sonnets, 1986)
leon4

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