The Hanging

They tell me to go through urgent mirrors
to take stock of my image
and the contents of my heart
 
They tell me that someone with gentle hands
will wipe the sweat trickling like remorse
down my temples
They also tell me I will be given a door to open
But I have found myself hanging
in many mirrors
in the shape of a nameless soldier
 
Justice here is unanimous like death
it is very much admired by tourists
who come in their thousands
To collect their terminal decorations