Have you ever wondered what it would be like to walk through a museum where every exhibit was a different version of yourself? One quiet walk through such a museum became a journey through the roles I have lived, the people who shaped me, and the lessons I gathered along the way. Every version held a mirror, and every mirror reflected something far deeper than my own face.The Museum, the Mirrors, and Me is a poem about identity, relationships, gratitude, boundaries, and, above all, learning to extend the same kindness to myself that I so freely offer others.
I entered the hall quietly,
A sense of excitement that surpassed reality.
My heart thumped as hard as it could,
My senses striving to understand what it could be.
Was it Tussaud’s?
Or some other museum?
Many versions of me
Were displayed one after the other.
For a second, I fumbled and scratched my head.
“Have I become a celebrity?
Famous enough to be showcased?”
When I looked at the displays,
I noticed a pattern all the way.
All my versions held a mirror,
A beacon of hope and an array of glimmers.
With hope and excitement, I walked towards the first.
Young and beautiful, blonde she was,
A happy and carefree girl she was.
Her face shimmered with peace,
As if she had been freed from all her worries.
I bent forward to look into the mirror,
As she signaled me to follow her.
What I saw came as a reply
To this version standing before me.
In the mirror,
I saw my mother’s reflection.
A little further, I moved
To see a playful version of mine,
A happy and merry version of mine.
I bent forward to look into the mirror.
I saw myself with my siblings,
Happily holding hands and playing Circle the Circle.
And suddenly, when the hands dropped and joined again,
The circle became larger,
With their families joining together.
Happily, I moved forward
And saw a newlywed version of mine.
Glowing with the quiet confidence
And joy of a new beginning.
Her smile was as captivating as the stars,
Reflecting the love and happiness in her heart.
I bent forward to look into the mirror.
And I saw my husband’s reflection.
Both of them seemed happy,
As if they had won life’s lottery.
Smiling, I moved ahead
And saw myself as a woman
Whose face held a combination of emotions.
Tired she was, and happy as well.
Her dark eye circles
Narrated stories of restless days
And sleepless nights.
She was worn, tired, and restless.
But above all,
She seemed to be the happiest.
I bent forward to look into the mirror.
And saw the reflection of both my sons.
Their naughty smiles made me giggle,
And their mischief made me smile.
Further ahead, I moved
To see a bubbly version,
Happily dancing to the tune of tensions.
I was surprised to see this one.
How could someone have so much fun?
I bent forward to look into the mirror,
And heard all my friends chatter,
Like a flock of birds chirping together.
Moving ahead, I found a version.
Dynamic, modest, and resilient she was.
With a book and a marker,
There she stood.
A mentor whose teachings went beyond the syllabus,
Filled with life lessons to instill.
A referee,
A coach,
A comforter,
A motherly figure
And a mentor.
I bent forward to look into the mirror,
And I saw thousands of my students
Smiling with gratitude and respect.
Next in line was the one
With a creative side,
Holding a pen, a brush,
And a palette so bright.
Colours were splashed over her face and hands.
I bent forward to look into the mirror,
And saw a creative version of mine,
Smiling wholeheartedly,
Shedding all the pain.
I moved forward to see a version
Quite puzzling to mention.
She was speaking a language without words,
Only her eyes tried to disclose.
I bent forward to look into the mirror.
What I saw was horrifying to remember.
There was a big “NO”
Written on the mirror.
And my version added more terror.
I tried to understand the veto displayed.
When I looked deeply into her eyes,
“Learn to say no,”
Was all she said.
And that was a lesson
I never learned.
Saying “yes”
Had always been my slogan.
The last version was quite unsettling.
An aching body
And weary eyes,
Trying to convey a painful truth.
I bent forward to look into the mirror.
I was shocked to see myself
Holding a placard.
“Help Me, I Also Need Care”
Was what my body said.
And then I realised
How unfair I had been.
All concern for others,
And nothing for me.
I also needed a soft corner.
I also had a place
On my priority list.
As I made my way towards the exit,
I heard an alarm ring.
I woke up,
Huffing and puffing,
And pondered over the museum trip.
It may have been a dream,
Or perhaps a message in disguise.
For every version I met
Had a lesson to impart.
Some taught me to cherish.
Some taught me to let go.
And one, above all,
Taught me something I had long forgotten.
To be gentle with myself.
To offer myself the same kindness
That I so willingly offer others.
For I, too, deserve care.
I, too, deserve compassion.
And I, too, deserve a place
On my own priority list.
With a smile, I carried the lesson home,
Leaving the museum behind,
But taking every version of me along.
Comments
U are truly a vision…. 😊😊👏👏
This wonderfully talks about you as a child, wife, mother and a teacher and how you found joy in every role. Finding joy is, of course not enough, hence, you also found how to say “no” and set boundaries and care for yourself whilst caring for others. It’s great life lesson! Thanks for sharing with us this valuable piece of poetry ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.
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I just finished reading The Museum the mirrors and me. Today I got to know how much we all keep in our museums. The way you face yourself in these pages is really powerful.
I think I too have many versions of me?
I liked reading this diary. And I got to learn a new aspect of life . ☺
Ma’am your poetry is your evidence of life whereby you lift the veil from the dark reality although your emotions are burning and your poetry reflects the painfully ash…..
Ma’am your poetry is your evidence of life whereby you lift the veil from the dark reality although your emotions are burning and your poetry reflects the painfully ash…..
Emotions exists in every heart but only few people are capable to pen it down…
“Beautifully written! Every emotion felt so real and heartfelt ♥️
*I just finished reading The Museum the mirrors and me. Today I got to know how much we all keep in our museums. The way you face yourself in these pages is really powerful.
I think I too have many versions of me?
I liked reading this diary. And I got to learn a new aspect of life . ☺*
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