Now, several years after writing 'Time Warp', I am seeing a different meaning in this poem to the one I intended at first. A rather strange feeling -- and an appropriate title for that!
Light stabs at angles of her mind
as a hall of mirrors distorts and turns.
She is walking away from herself –
can she be moving forward?
As she finds a passageway
reflections tilt and slant.
She looks at her echo in the glass,
sees some other thing, with empty eyes;
travels back through cracked parallels,
but where she returns is not the place she left.
The people have the same faces,
but they are not her people.
They don’t ask who she is, no-one can
help her now, she is too far away.
A bird flies through the room,
she hears its wings whisper, and
in the tail of her eye she sees a dove
draw a new barrier.
No going back, they are separated.
She is out of time.