A mirror keeps more than it shows. Under the full moon it will give up what it has gathered, if you ask it rightly and wipe it clean.
This working reaches toward the residue of every glance a glass has held — the faces, the moods, the long nights it stood witness to. A mirror that is never cleared grows heavy with looking. To clean it under the fullest light is to empty not only the glass but the room it watches, and the one who stands before it.
The Working
- When the full moon is high, set the mirror where its light can reach the glass, even faintly.
- Ring a small bell once close to the surface, and watch the sound move across it.
- Stir a little salt into cool water until it turns cloudy, then wet a clean cloth in it.
- Wipe the glass in slow circles from the center outward, saying what you would have it release.
- As you work, do not meet your own eyes; watch only your hands and the clearing surface.
- When the glass is dry and bright, ring the bell a final time and let the note fade to nothing.
- Pour the salt water away outside, and cover the mirror with cloth until morning.
The Incantation
Glass that has watched and glass that has kept,
give back the faces, give back the years.
Every long night that a sleeper slept,
every reflection heavy with tears.
Bell to wake you, salt to scour,
water to carry the clouding away.
Clear as the moon at the top of her hour —
show me nothing until the day.
Leave the mirror shrouded till dawn, and let it wake empty and bright. What it held is gone into the salt and the dark.