Reflections

                           Reflections

Unless you speak my language with all nuances,
unless you walk my chosen customs,
pray to my gods in my names of them
in accord with my doctrines:
you cannot be my friend!
My fortress wall of thick solid stone stands broad and wide.

Or

Because you know not the meaning of the sounds of my lips,
because my smiles are strange twistings of my face,
my gestures are arcane wavings in the air,
my writings a gibberish of scratchings,
my gods unimagined and
you have yet to choose:
I choose you friend.
My fragile mirror of thin metallized glass stands broad and wide.

Hidden, you peer behind your fortress peephole to see me
open front and back.

Come close to me, embrace?
our friendship sheltered twixt our two revealing mirrors,
friendship-reflections growing ever-ward our two directions.
More than we can discover and treasure
in our given days.

© David W Oliver 3/19/2010