I am trapped behind your bedroom mirror
while I’m trapped
when I get out
when you appear
I float around now
from place to place
I am a ghost looking for a familiar face
I wish I could have known my fate
but now I know it’s just too late
I wish I could have seen
what my life would have been like at thirteen…
Just a girl from the Bronx
learning from the college of hard knocks
street smart wise
didn’t see the knife
a shadow in the midst
behind my back that insists
that if I scream or, resist —
I’m history then
thirteen, and I wonder what could have been
while it all fades to black
but I see white
and, for the first time…
I am shown what is right
Beauty is all around,
a symphony in heaven is all I see..
singing just for me.

.
• p-                                                                
eople do                                                              
not see past                                                               
her   makeover•                                                               
•only  traded snea-                                                               
kers for heels beyond                                                             
her years• starkness of                                                         
change, her  before and                                                   
•••after•only constants                                                 
•••are her darkness and                                             
•••••fears•happily ever                                          
•••      after is a dream so                                     
•••         far•when sickness                                  
•••          consumed her caregi-                           
   •••           vers old•hides these away                    
  •••              as she approaches the stationary      
        •••                  car •  only her stilettos know... of her
         •••                     ••••••••••••••••••••••••••
      •••                       ••••••••••••••••••••••••


*story untold•

Sure the fatigue would come...
Infiltrating the sanctity of our skin,
gripping our muscles
and chafes us within.
Right down to the bone.

No doubt the fear of future days
would eat at us raw.
It would gnaw at our minds...
Debilitating thoughts that would *******
no one else but our own.

Of course the seeds we've planted,
mightn't see past the layer of soil
in which they're embedded.
Seeds hidden in the ground for future reaping...
They mightn't flourish to meet the harvest
and greet the hand which would
welcome them full grown.

Most likely the days before us
only show of dark clouds...
That constantly scare us.

But today...
Has time and space for us to exist.
Today has a crisp sweetness wafting through the air.
Firm, unwavering ground beneath our feet.
So let's claim today because today is ours to keep.

Today we share the returns...
Of the sweat and the tears that in the past
we've sown.