Glass That Melts
As I compare my debut collection of poetry, A Consecration of the Wind, to the manuscript for my second book Fragmented Roots, I realize that I have included images of glass and mirrors throughout my poems, which span five decades. In both collections, the glass occasionally melts, and the mirrors reveal a countenance that seems foreign to me.
For me, glass symbolizes a cocoon or a womb-like barrier that prevents me from becoming who it is I am supposed to be. When the glass melts or becomes penetrable, I press through, confronting my inner conflicts in an effort to reach a more balanced and less divided state of mind. In another poem, however, glass symbolizes the passageway from this life to the afterlife. In “Fading Lights,” that thin passageway reflects the fragility of life and the frequency with which loved ones leave us.
My mirrors often reflect a distorted version of reality and serve to disguise my true self, which I am not always willing to confront. In an homage to Sylvia Plath’s “Mirror,” I end one of my poems with the following lines:
This painting is the geometry of my being;
It is at once rigid, soft, and mysterious,
Though it has a beauty
That has since vanished from my mirror.
Naomie Akridge beautifully conveys the meaning of mirrors in women’s literature, citing Plath, Woolf, and Waters. She writes, “Whether through providing reflections of inner worlds, unveiling feelings or at times offering a haunting reflection; mirrors have always been a mystical symbol and a powerful unique tool of empowerment, courage, and discovery in women’s literature.”
