Be Still

by Christian Thomas Golden

10156016_462762660534028_6938677529140500314_nCunning, cold deceiver
slithering beneath the smoke.
I look and find only
a reflection of myself.

Skin is slipping, dripping down
puddles of Caucasian cream follow
as I run through a maze of mirrors
horrified, disgusted, vomiting in circles,
slipping, falling, rolling, crawling
on my hands and knees.

Who turned on the lights?

Alone in a white room, I stand naked
knees shaking, palms sweat-soaked
as a soft voice whispers
“Be still and know that I am God.”

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