October 5.

I finally walked to the bank near my house today to finish a task I’d been “strategically postponing” (read: dodging) for almost a month. I tried to do it online three separate times, argued with five to seven chatbots, and drafted one passive-aggressive email to “support” with four timely and desperate follow-ups. At the counter, the clerk glanced at my form, typed for all of five seconds, stamped something, and said, “Done.” Start to finish: two minutes. My ego? Fifteen years older. Walking back, I was oddly buoyant, the kind of lightness that comes only after you stop negotiating with a chore and just do it. Then we paused outside a jewelry store because Ma wanted to “just look.” Mid-glimmer, her phone rang: relatives are coming over. And just like that, mood: nosedive. It’s not the people (mostly). It’s the sudden pivot from quiet, handled-day energy to hostess-mode, small talk, “eat more” negotiations. Also, it is the people. Some people come from broken families within broken societies that cannot contain the brokenness of families, so it puts the duty on pieces to gather themselves and show up as a seamless plate... no chips, no crumbs, no “handle with care” label. So I did the adulting math on the walk home: Two minutes at the bank ≠ two hours of entertaining. Tea is hospitality; a five-course spread is self-sabotage. Clean one surface. Close one door. Light one diya. Done. And then I sabotaged lunch. I said yes to a plate I didn’t want because who has the energy to say no after a surprise social marathon? Immediate regret. The kind that sits on your tongue like a scold. I told myself I’d fix the mood with coffee. there’s that fancy flavored one my sister left behind, right? Cinnamon-vanilla-hazelnut-something-French-premix that promises personality. I stood there, inventorying options like a procurement officer: grinder? no; milk? maybe; willpower? on lunch break. I kept thinking about brewing the artisan experience and then, of course, opened the fridge and saw a ready-to-drink can winking at me like a bad idea in a cute outfit. Reader, I drank it. It was cold, caffeinated, and emotionally mid. Not great, not tragic. But it did the one KPI that mattered: it moved me from “ugh” to “okay.” Sometimes the win is the laziest version of the plan. Sometimes the ceremony can wait; the cup just needs to be full. Note to self: Saying no is energy-intensive; practice it when the stakes are low so it’s available when the stakes are high. A mediocre lunch doesn’t deserve a full afternoon of rumination. Fancy coffee is a mood; canned coffee is an intervention. Both have their place. Today’s theme is friction reduction: do the thing, drink the thing, protect the tiny wins. I’m not calling it a great day. I’m calling it a managed day. Bank: done. Guests: navigated. Lunch: survived. Coffee: operationalized. And my mood? Recovering on a gentle incline, assisted by caffeine and the bold strategy of not overcomplicating what doesn’t need ceremony. Ending, I type this after a good shower and a full lotion-izing session, while the clouds grumble outside and my mother snuffles inside. The day is not perfect, but it’s washed, moisturized, caffeinated, and, against the odds, quietly mine. Tomorrow can negotiate; tonight, I’m off-duty.

~ Oizys.

OctPoWriMo Day 4. Message to the Mirror

OctPoWriMo Day 4. Projections of What We Fear In Ourselves

Mirrors symbolize reversals, reflection, and distortions. What is your relationship with mirrors? Can you think of a time that a mirror frightened you? If you slipped through your looking glass, what would your mirrorworld look like?

Example Poem: “To the Mirror” by Jorge Luis Borges (translated by Tony Barnstone) from Monster Verse: Poems Human and Inhuman(Aal)

To the Mirror

Why is it you persist, incessant mirror?
Why duplicate me, to the smallest gesture
of my hand? Why suddenly reflect there
in the shadows? You, uncanny brother,
you are the other me that ancient Greek
spoke of. You’ve watched forever. From a glaze
of old and watery crystal do you gaze
at me? It’s useless to be blind. You seek
me and it’s worse that I can’t see, can’t tell;
that really is your horror, magic thing
who multiplies the cipher of our bing
then sucks our blessings into your strange well.
And when I’m dead, you’ll duplicate another,
another, then another and another. . .

~Jorge Luis Borges

Why does the mirror horrify the speaker in this poem?

Prompt: Write your poem as a message to your mirror. What will you ask it? What do you need to tell it? What are the deepest fears that it brings up for you?

Possible form: A Palindrome poem, or mirror poem. This is a poem split along a vertical center where the words on the left are mirrored on the right.

~

Message to the Mirror

mirror, listen

breath steady, shoulders lowered

latch easy, door closed

night humming, street quiet

city near, leaving farther

mother resting, hope stubborn

room small, courage taller

animal within, fear chewed slowly

tongue patient, prayers salted

eyes open, truth welcomed

name given kindly, image forgiven

I am here, you are here

we are; are we

we are; are we

here are you, here am I

forgiven image, kindly given name

welcomed truth, open eyes

salted prayers, patient tongue

slowly chewed fear, within animal

taller courage, small room

stubborn hope, resting mother

farther leaving, near city

quiet street, humming night

closed door, easy latch

lowered shoulders, steady breath

listen mirror

~ Oizys.

NOTE: I tried a full “mirror” build: the second half reverses the first, line-by-line and word-by-word, with a hinge at we are; are we. I kept grammar natural, so it reads clean both ways. Not a letter-palindrome, but more a true mirror poem. Try reading bottom-up. This one is an experiment in 'palindroming'. The poem mirrors itself after the hinge line we are; are we: every line in the second half is the first half reversed, word-by-word (e.g., “latch easy, door closed” ↔ “closed door, easy latch”). I avoided awkward inversions, let commas do the balancing, and aimed for sense and flow in both directions. It’s a mirror poem, not a strict character palindrome and that was the trade: coherence over stunt. Read it down, then read it up. If you find a line that bumps, tell me, I’ll [try my best to] tune it without breaking the mirror.