Looking Glass Poem by Anashree Nash

I run my fingers through my hair;
With no strand out of place,
A final touch of makeup;
A little powder on my face.

Almost ready, almost done;
In a hurry to meet a new day,
A final glance into the looking glass;
I must say you look good today.

I turn around, almost out the door;
As thoughts cluster my mind,
I take a deep breath;
Release a gentle sigh.

Hasten once more to the looking glass;
A feeling I'm unable to surpass,
I gaze into my eyes once more;
Unsure what I'm looking for.

Is this who people see;
And feel they know me for me,
Is this whom I see;
Or whom I want to be?

All these questions begin to flow;
I pause for a while,
As time stood still for a second or two;
A confusion I unwind.

My designer clothes;
Or where I reside;
Is not who I am or whom I choose to be,
I am who I am, happy being me.

The world may see me;
For whom I appear to be,
Though there's so much more to me;
Knows the woman looking back at me

Some may feel I'm lucky;
Without knowing the trials,
I've faced to accomplish all I have;
The road I've tread felt like miles.

I have made mistakes;
That is part of learning;
I'm not perfect, we're never meant to be,
We all have our flaws in us you see.

Throughout my life;
I'm sure I've hurt a few,
It was never intentional;
I'm sorry for hurting you.

To those who thought;
I'd stumble and fall,
Thank you thank you thank you;
You've inspired me to stand tall.

To all that have helped me;
And brought me to where I am today,
Thank you for all your help;
You've been a blessing along the way.

God, you are my very own gps;
My north, my south, my east my west,
I owe it all to you, you stood patiently;
Beside me through every test.

I stare into the looking glass;
I begin to chuckle,
I've done well so far,
What was all the trouble.

I suppose I'm my greatest critic;
I push myself a little too far,
Sometimes I don't understand;
The magnitude of my hand.

I'm a person not many;
Can compare to or compete,
It's my pure heart that stands out;
That makes me hard to defeat.

Yes I have lots more to do;
This isn't the end of the road,
But for once I give myself credit,
For being able to carry the load.

This journey has just began
Many things left undone,
Says the woman looking back at me;
In the looking glass.