An old mirror from the hospice shop

You have seen so many faces hiding so much humanity, heavy, burdened, your glass sharp, clear in intent to speak truth to light, giving only reflective counsel, insight to those who would see for themselves. But your oak frame has darkened, cracked under interrogation, wearied of bearing witness to the toll light takes as time ticks by, and I ask myself what I see in you, and are you likely to see me through.