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Three years ago before I almost died, this was how I felt when I looked in the mirror. Whoever thought that almost dying would be the path to living?
Stranger of Mine
Face in the mirror,
Not mine, but whose?
Blank, dead eyes
Mouth hanging loose.
“Where am I?” I cry,
No answer does come.
I call out again,
Nobody home.
I cry for my loss,
I know I’m in there.
I see a small glimmer,
The question is, where?
I walk through this world,
Spiritually dead.
Clinging to rope,
Tattered to shreds.
Then comes a light,
Shining towards me.
Paler than white,
Parting the sea.
Stumbling the words,
“Dear Lord, who am I?"
He gently replies,
“You are my child."
Face in the mirror,
Now I do see.
Eyes filled with light,
Life within me.
Blessings poured over,
Time after time.
Reflection's no longer,
A stranger of mine.
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