In English class this year we've been studying poetry analysis, and one of my favourite poems that we've looked at thus far (by one of my all time favourite poets and writers) is "Mirrors" by Sylvia Plath.
Reading it, I couldn't help being reminded of this song and all of "Fevers and Mirrors" in general.
The concept of a mirror reflecting everything accurately and without personal bias, distortion, judgement or emotion, etc. but not truly reflecting who you truly are. Sort of. Or something.
Anyway, here's the poem (which I think is beautifully haunting, btw, as is this song):
Mirror
By Sylvia Plath
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful-
The eye of god, four-cornered
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A women bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
In English class this year we've been studying poetry analysis, and one of my favourite poems that we've looked at thus far (by one of my all time favourite poets and writers) is "Mirrors" by Sylvia Plath.
Reading it, I couldn't help being reminded of this song and all of "Fevers and Mirrors" in general.
The concept of a mirror reflecting everything accurately and without personal bias, distortion, judgement or emotion, etc. but not truly reflecting who you truly are. Sort of. Or something.
Anyway, here's the poem (which I think is beautifully haunting, btw, as is this song):
Mirror By Sylvia Plath
Whatever I see I swallow immediately Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike. I am not cruel, only truthful- The eye of god, four-cornered Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall. It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers. Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A women bends over me, Searching my reaches for what she really is. Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon. I see her back, and reflect it faithfully. She rewards me with tears and agitation of hands. I am important to her. She comes and goes. Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness. In me she has drowned a young girl, and me an old woman Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.