Finding Myself
Caroline Selles
I open the box of puzzle pieces that are my pain.
As I sort through the jumble of jagged bleeding pieces, I notice My illusions
My faults
My failures
My trauma.
The edges form the suit of armor so familiar, comfortable, and suffocating.
The colors are muted and faded.
The design prescribed by others
My family
My peers
My rapist
My newsfeed.
Edges no longer match.
Pieces no longer fit.
The picture on the box, so attractive and acceptable to others, The image I am told I should want to form seems
Grotesque
Artificial
Offensive
Unacceptable to me.
One by one, I lovingly scrape off the blood and reshape the pieces. I add vibrant colors
Of laughter
Of tears
Of dancing Of truth.
The suit of armor is replaced by a blanket, warm, cozy, comforting and fluid.
I allow the tenderness to mold, not an image, but a feeling. A feeling
Of love
Of belonging Of connection Of safety.
I am finding myself, one piece at a time.
(To be continued)