from the ashes

from the ashes

i am not born again,

but i don’t feel like who i was.

so, maybe,

i will finally feel like who i am,

like me again-

as if undergone a series of enlightening events,

spiritual happenings yet inexplicable.

for the first time in thirty-six years,

i believe in my power,

and now the difference is that i know what it is.

i have cried for that man.

the one whose place people think i took

when they look at me.

but only i return a glance and smile

while i meet the chill of condescended judgement and bitter stares,

the scorn for things they know little of.

that was when it all made sense.

i thought i would rather die-

when you broke through,

when you penetrated my shell,

against my will;

when you took from my home,

from my heart,

the safety it could freely give.

you made it quick work to raze my confidence,

lock me inside of my head,

in my emotions,

in my own skin.

but i do not know where you can find that man now,

even though i stand here before you,

where he was.

even though he wore these clothes

and i now wear his face.

i am no imposter;

this is me.

and my tears no longer fall from crocodile scales;

but, for a changeling,

only doing his best to really feel alive,

and to feel at home somewhere;

but he was lost,

he felt alone,

forsaken,

afraid;

betrayal biting at my heels

with the strings of my heart still hanging from your sharpened teeth;

he saw no reason to feel fear before you broke his heart,

and i have seen only red when i have seen you since.

we both know why,

and i am not afraid of who i am anymore,

and i am not afraid of you.

i welcome life and death each day

because i am intimate with both.

the shadow of either one alone is still too great for your comparison.

so, i will not run.

i stand here,

and i will turn the other cheek.

we all need a win, sometimes.

even a dark night of the soul can be chased away,

afraid to see the blinding light of day.

and i am grateful for the lessons left in his place.

because i still love me,

as i always have and always will,

even if you don't.

just as much as i can hate him, too,

but only sometimes.

the security you would steal to keep as if your own,

in reality,

is quite fleeting when when you fake it;

not seldom,

not never,

but so much more.

very rarely do i travel in that strangely balanced place,

far from the fringe,

where all existence seems turned on end,

unfettered by social obligation

in this unfamiliar happy medium.

but here i am today,

so, let us dance while we still can,

as if you are the devil.