Reflection in NYC

 1.

Storefront glass at night—
I catch myself in passing,
unsure who I am.

2.
The fountain goes still.
Skyscrapers bow in water—
even steel softens.

3.
Subway window blurs,
my face mixed with tunnel walls—
ghosts riding with me.

4.
Crosswalk countdown blinks—
I ask myself one more time
if I’m still aligned.

5.
In Central Park fog,
the trees know my quiet mood—
we sway without wind.

6.
Museum hush holds me,
a portrait looks back too long—
we share recognition.

7.
Brooklyn Bridge at dusk,
I look down to see the tide—
and also my past.

8.
Rain on windowsill,
I trace one drop with my eye—
it follows my thoughts.

9.
Alone in the crowd,
I hear what I never say—
my own voice, waiting.

10.
The skyline reflects
off puddles that I step through—
broken still holds light.

11.
On the fire escape,
I light a candle and think—
of all I’ve survived.

12.
You ask how I am.
The city answers for me—
it depends on where.

13.
Bus ride through Harlem,
my hands on my knees, thinking—
am I who I meant?

14.
Inside the cathedral,
stained glass flickers on my face—
I leave with more peace.

15.
The 7 train hums,
my eyes catch the Queens skyline—
old dreams reappear.

16.
Rooftop on the LES,
I watch myself let things go—
each one in the wind.

17.
Library corners,
books whisper my old questions—
some I now answer.

18.
Waiting for a cab,
I study my reflection
in a taxi door.

19.
Staring at the soup,
my hands stop stirring the spoon—
grief brews underneath.

20.
You passed me today.
I looked back and didn’t flinch—
healing looks like this.

21.
Late train, tired eyes,
I write poems in my head—
they sound like my truth.

22.
Graffiti on walls,
asks what I’m doing with time—
I take the long way.

23.
From the Cloisters’ hill,
I see all five boroughs—
and my five versions.

24.
The mirror cracked once.
I kept it, learned to love it—
I see more now, not less.

25.
A pigeon stares back
as I sit near Prospect Park—
stillness meets stillness.