Worthy Witness

1.  The floor to ceiling mirrors nearly cover three walls, the odd one holding various toys and apparatus.  I’m not alone; women of various size and shapes join me in our hour of bending and stretching:  plias and releva.  We use bands and weights, balls and bars; mats and steps, some piled four high.  The mirrors hold court to everyone’s reflection.  “Check your knee alignment;” our full-bodied teacher says, “don’t let them go over your toes.”  And many of us check in the mirror.  “Flat back, butt out,” she barks, akin to a drill instructor.  We’re lifting body bars while executing squats.  She suddenly adds a little box step to the lift and squat, “it goes better with the music of the 70’s,” she says.  Dyslexia challenged, I’ve lost my rhythm and right becomes left, up is now down, and I see in the mirror that I’ve caused others to lose theirs.

2.  The woman, in her middle-worn years, stares into the age-encrusted hand mirror.  Moving with delicate precision, she looks.  Nothing has been affirmed and nothing can be denied.

3.  Splendid!  water silently coursing through the river, movement soft as silk.  Trees on the river’s bank reflect in kind, and I think I can walk on water.