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Mirrors

By Elisa Herrera

We walk through a hallway of mirrors,

the same day repeating in each one—

yet never looking the same.

In one, the light is soft,

the weight of things barely touches me.

I pass through the moment

as if it means nothing.

In another, the glass darkens—

the same scene bends inward,

presses against my chest

until I can hardly breathe.

Nothing has changed—

the room, the words, the silence—

yet the mirror turns it heavy,

turns it into something I cannot carry.

I move from reflection to reflection,

not realizing I’ve stepped into a different one.

One tells me I’m okay.

Another whispers: this is too much.

And somewhere in between,

there must be a mirror

that shows things as they are—

not softer, not crueler—just true.

But until I find it,

I keep walking this corridor,

living the same life

in a thousand different ways.