Not Herself (Poetry)

She’s disconcerted when the mirror shows
a different face —
that isn’t her — yet like her fills
the space
with lips and hair half-recognised
but strange —
features — eyes nose mouth seem
rearranged
to suit her thoughts — dreams from
another life
where she is free and not some
displaced wife.

Some aspect of her’s altered in
the night —
changed the way she looks in
morning’s light.
Her name sounds odd and awkward —
doesn’t fit —
she can’t recall the voice who
answered it.
Her skin belongs to someone else
as well —
too old — too worn — outgrown like some
pale shell.

It’s clear she’s not herself — she peers
beneath
the image in the mirror peels
back grief —
unpicks the lines of sorrow on
her brow
aware that fate has cheated her
somehow
and robbed her of her sanity
for sure
this face is never one she’s seen
before.

No one hears what she has got
to say —
she’s rumoured mad — they want her
locked away.
Silver now the hair that once
was black
and gone the years no prayer will give
her back.
She beats her fist against the
looking glass
to break whatever senseless spell’s
been cast.