Mirrors Hold Memories

In my mirror, images
of breast removals, scars
and cesareans, faded–
the bittersweet presence
in so many women around me.

With the passage of time
my landscapes shattered,
but as my eyes drift upward
I can still see the emerging
woman in me—green eyes,
soft as velvet, large forehead,
the curls of daddy’s girl.
Older now,
I no longer obsess
about my many landscapes, but
only give thanks to a life well-lived,
and blessed to have made it this far.

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By Diana Raab. Published in Spillwords (October 11, 2026) and Coping Magazine (October 13, 2026).