I wrote this poem for an International Women’s Day event earlier this year, but it fits so well into our current topic of Ageism.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
look at me, getting so tall.
My tiny nose, my cheeky bum,
I hope I grow up just like Mum.
Mirror, mirror, what’s up today?
My body’s changing without my say.
My hips are wider, my skin’s a mess
And what has happened to my chest?
Mirror, mirror, I don’t want to see
myself looking back at me.
My shape, my clothes, my nose is wrong
I wish I knew where I belong.
Mirror, mirror, can you guess?
He asked me, and I said, “Yes”.
Do you think I’ll look okay,
when it gets to the big day?
Mirror, mirror, hope all is well,
I watch my body grow and swell,
the child within me blooms and thrives
while I await this brand-new life.
Mirror, mirror, do you see?
Is that frazzled blur still me?
Sometimes I feel like I’m unseen
in all the rushing in-between.
Mirror, mirror, you’re far away
Or so my eyesight seems to say.
Yet still I see me hunched and torn
Inside this frame that’s oh so worn.
And as my eyes stare back at me,
And I see my own fragility
I wish that I had always known
The beauty of the way I’ve grown.
The wonder of a woman’s form
That evolves in each new moon,
That stretches, moves, shelters and grows
Yet still has that tiny nose.