“Glass” by W.S. Merwin

One day you look at the mirror and it’s open
and inside the place where the eyes were
is a long road grey as water
and on it someone is running away
a little figure in a long pale coat
and you can’t move you can’t call it’s too late
who was it

Then
there are many of them
with their backs to you and their arms in the air
and no shadows
running away on the road grey as ice
with the leaves flying after them
and the birds in great flocks the dust
the stones the trees
all your terrors running away from you
too late
into a cloud

And you fall on your knees and try to call to them
far in the empty face