She

“SHE”

I’m still alive!

But who am I?

Who is that person in the mirror?
I actually kind of like how she looks
And also how she looks back at me
Who is the person who walks into the closet?
Or better yet, who owns this closet full of “stuff”?

It feels like - not me.

But who is “me”?

“Someone” left and “Someone” new has moved in
This old place; this old skin no longer fits

She?

I?

Who wanders aimlessly in this other person’s life?
But wait, she is not aimless - No! No! No!
“She” - let’s just name her that for now
Wants to blow it up, tear it up and burn it down!

This new “She” doesn’t like anything She see’s in the closet
(She has already cleaned out the fridge and the cupboards)
She’s striking up a new life
She wants to live like every day could be her last
No wait - She wants to live before she dies
She likes the sound of that better

Did the “old she” take all the courage with her when she left?
Did she really leave?
Or is she lurking like a troll on the internet?
Sometimes it feels so.

“She” has courage in spades when it comes to the big things
(Her tribe of fellow “Shes” know what she means by that)
And yet, (not but..), and yet... the little things make her shy…

She may be little and fierce
But she’s ready to own that inside she is big, bold and beautiful

First step - Awareness
Second step - Burn down the fucking closet!

.

The Why Of The Poem
It was yet another long and painful night and there was no way I was going to get any sleep! I had a choice to make…I could lie there tossing and turning waiting out the darkness to hopefully find relief in the morning light…Or I could pick up my pen and write. Neither choice was appealing but I knew from experience that inactivity was a slippery slope into deep well of hopelessness. So write I did - for hours! I apparently had a lot to say! Lots of purging of anger and grief, venting into the pages about the apparent ‘unfairness’ of my current situation. Questioning what I did wrong to cause my body to rebel in this way. Asking for ways that might help turn the tide, to bring this ‘dark night of the soul’ to some kind of conclusion. I’m not sure if I ran out of words or the pen ran out of ink! I decided that it was time to attempt rest again but t was not to be. It would appear that my previous rantings were heard and being answered…As I wrote I became increasingly aware of how much headway that I had actually made. In my own words I was able to see that I had indeed been making progress albeit slowly; that I was being rewarded for my adherence to strict (and boring:) protocols. and that the was a flicker of light at the end of the long tunnel. This little poem made me smile that night, and more importantly gave me hope and encouragement…A clear message that the tide was turning in my favour and that it was indeed safe to 'Burn down the f***ing closet and begin something new!