Return
The Gaze of My Reflection
By Oscar S. Cisneros
I remember the day it happened, like the Phoenix rising
from ashes, immolating, I came burning up through the
smoldering graveyard of the past heart still stinging
from the loss but suddenly aware of who I was: The day
I learned to return the gaze of my reflection, unafraid
to see my faults, my imperfections, unafraid to see myself
there reflected.
Night came. And I walked still and steady into a place
I had crept into before, wrapped in tended leather, appointed
in clothes to match the respect I had for myself. Months
before I sat slinking in the corners, unsure, timid, trying
to brave and now it was different I was different, the
same man, true, but one that did not flinch his reflection,
one who did not avert his eyes from others.
It all played out on the dancefloor, a dark angel with
silver wings, a girl in a top hat and spinning embrace,
it was all like a dream. I put myself into a pleasant
haze with drink but it was not the liquor that made me
feel the way I do now the way I did then. Confident, unafraid,
sure of one simple fact: That I had learned to return
the gaze of my own reflection. I understood the man peering
across the looking glass at me and in him I saw the dignity
of his great-grandfather, the gallantry of his mother's
father, the beauty of his mother.
The hood of a cloak has been pulled back from my eyes,
a light has flickered upon the page I was trying to read,
it is all so clear now, that those years of doubt, when
at times I was too afraid to look into the eyes of a waitress
not even my age and ask her to bring me some food, all
of that was wasted time, clinging to friendships and relationships
because I was too afraid to step out into the world and
find those who would honor me the way that I would honor
them.
It is over. That time is over. And now I walk at my own
stride, my own pace and am I comfortable with who I have
become. I speak not of perfection, but rather the acceptance
of imperfection. That is the strength I have earned. And
so when I am slighted, I do not return the anger; when
I am rejected, I am thankful. Because I know who I am
and it is clear to me that the friends to cherish and
the woman to hold on to will seek me out to return the
love and respect that I give so happily willingly passionately.
I have learned to return the gaze of my reflection. I
have learned to love myself, exactly as I am.
