by Jennifer L. Jacoby
A million shattered fragments scattered across the
Land, each unique yet microcosms of the One.
If we are all the pieces, who broke the mirror?
The king needed a champion, to shield life, land and
Sacred oath. Gazing into the magic of pressed
Sand, the wizard pulled a hero through the mirror.
Everything that is has one perfect duplicate;
Or so Cherillys believed. Why, I wonder?
I can see myself perfectly in the mirror.
How do we mend the brokenness when the broken
Is all that we see? Reflections are but echoes
Of originals. How do we trust the mirror?
The waters, still as a looking glass, reflected
An image other than my own. See how the Sacred
Sees you. Believe. Now, lean into the mirror.
The champion walks swordless into the battle; her
Truest weapon is her soul. Don’t be afraid of
The edges, Chiya. There is truth in the mirror.
Peace and long life… Jennifer