A survivor through and through
It is my name
With magical powers
And also a shadow
Casting hidden doubts with harsh voices
At times the protective veneer slips
I get a glimmer of something lost
Distance, without a name
I know this place has a key
I’ve been searching the world for it
Knowing that I likely already possess it
But how?
I am my own pandoras box
Secret to me yet familiar
In all my wanderings
I keep pulling at threads
Then one day I see my mirror
I dismiss it
But I cannot look away
As always, captivated by my own gaze.
Trapped. Transfixed. Entranced
By this stranger who is myself
I see others so clearly
but applying that reflection
To my body
Is so alien, unnatural
I push it away
I call it names
I put in in a box
Yet it crawls out
Again and again
It is my key
But not in any form
That I recognize
I turn it in my hand
to make sense of its shape
Which way do I use it?
It is not shiny
Not corrugated
It is gentle
And dark
Quiet
Persistent
Steady
I fall into recognition
Like an embrace
That I’ve needed
1,000 times over
A key was found
Yet the person behind the door
It is me
As I have always been
But never acknowledged
