POETRY: Caught

It happens, they say,
to everyone—
for you, a glimpse in the
mirror, washing your hands,
a quick glance up, and
there she is—

Mother. Narrowed eyes
now yours, wrinkles in the
same places, thinning lips,
irises a different color, maybe—
the expression, however,
altogether the same. You

thought you’d escaped the
Shoulds, Why-Don’t-Yous,
the silent measuring—
No. All of it, apparently,
crept into adulthood,
darting from mirror to mirror,
just out of sight, following like
a shadow in the night—

until, at last, your time has
ticked away. Best, my friend,
to embrace it—we are, after all, where we come from.
Our choices, thankfully,
are our own.