“And Who Is He?”

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“And Who Is He?”

And who is he if not an image in the hall
Alone with nothing but the furniture—
A stick or two—perhaps a glass of pure
Remorse for what’s past, and then the call
To what may just begin to reappear,
A possibility for some few hours in the sun?
The measure of a man is not his run
Of fortune nor a portion of a clear
And fruitful day among the multitudes,
But what he must achieve when face to face
With his own image and position placed
Before the judge of judges in the crude
Efficiency of gazing in the mirror all alone:
A man in crowds is not the man he is at home.

One response to ““And Who Is He?”

  1. The true measure of a man, for most of us, is a thin shadow of what we spend most of our day imagining. Mirror gazing is not for weekend seeker; when the face melts and we glimpse the beast and the petulant child and the frightened lamb… the heart trembles like a sapling in the bitter winds of truth. As you say: “…gazing in the mirror all alone: A man in crowds is not the man he is at home.” Such glimpses humble one and disturb the sleep of vanity. Your poem is a framed glass of awaits when we pierce the veil.

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