It was 2:30 a.m. when I finished this poem. Granted, I should have been sleeping, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t sleep because of this idea, this idea of beauty. It was 2:30 in the morning, and here I was thinking about Disney princesses and what they saw when they looked in the mirror. So often these princesses, among other “princesses” our culture has labeled, are the standard of beauty. But what do these princesses—these women— see when they look in the mirror? Read my poem to come to a possible conclusion. (Note: the formatting was off, so it's not in it's original layout).
Magic Mirror
The Mirror hung on the wall.
The first princess approached,
in front of all.
"Ah, Snow White,"
the Mirror began.
"Are you truly the fairest of them all?"
A moment passed, then two.
"Poor Snow White," the Mirror sighed,
as if shaking his head,
"You're far too white," the mirror said.
The second princess approached,
quiet, ready.
Her head held high, her violet gaze steady.
"Sleeping Beauty, I presume.
Should I suggest the sleeping curse resume?"
A moment passed, then two.
"My child, your eyes too puffy, your hair too frizzy.
Maybe tomorrow, my sweet, you'll be pretty."
The third princess strode to the Mirror,
planting her feet firmly in place.
Her bold eyes flashing,
her countenance dashing.
The Mirror seemed to chuckle at her brazen strength.
"Princess Jasmine, I survey.
Tell me, what is it you wish to see this day?"
A moment passed, then two.
"Arms quite twiggy, stomach quite round.
Maybe tomorrow your beauty will be found."
The fourth princess approached with poise and grace.
Her hands calloused and torn,
her dress mended and worn.
"Cinderella, I do declare.
You wish to know why the others stare?"
A moment passed, then two.
"Your clothes too tattered, your shoes too battered.
Perhaps tomorrow, my dear,
your filthy rags shall disappear."
The fifth princess approached the Mirror apprehensive, unsure.
Her eyebrow raised, her focus unfazed.
"Belle, Princess of Word and Book.
Does your appearance deserve a second look?"
A moment passed, then two.
"Dear child, your face is quite plain, and your hair quite boring.
Maybe tomorrow you'll be more alluring."
The sixth princess approached angry, brazen.
Her blue eyes glowing, her fury showing.
"Why do you insult the girls that stand before you?" she exclaimed.
A moment passed, then two.
"I do not," the Mirror explained. "I only proclaim what the princess views.
And you, my lovely Merida, desire hair of darker hues."
The final princess stood calmly before the Mirror.
Her gaze blank, her eyes frozen over.
A moment passed, then two.
"Dear Princess," the Mirror began.
"Your voice is of the most lovely tune, your laughter the sweetest melody.
Your smile lights the sky, either day or night,
and your sparkling grin extinguishes night.
Your hair is of the deepest black, your eyes of the greenest blue.
Lips of coral pink and skin of whitish hue.
Your kindness is unshakeable, and your patience unbreakable.
You, my sweet princess, are the fairest of them all,
because you can see beyond my reflection wall."
The others gathered around the seventh princess, her gaze frozen over, and understood the Mirror's magic. It was not the Mirror who devised flawed reflections, but rather the viewer who saw their own imperfections.
