I catch sight of myself
in the window’s reflection.
I catch sight of myself
as you might
hold me daily in your gaze.
Every now and then I think
to hide.
That if I can walk
undercover of the night,
then your sweeping search light
will pass by me here.
But then I see myself,
locked fast,
held alight like a candle
in a window frame.
And I am struck by something
I sometimes cannot believe.
The image you would see
is not always
the one I hold inside,
carried in shame.
Rather, what you see
is oftentimes lit up
by the light
shed upon me from somewhere else.
Like the sun that
has me caught aloft
burnished in its setting gold.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
January 2020
Living Tree Poetry 