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The Reckoning Hour

I used to roll with the intellectual hustlers

And now I run with the wolves

I used to (think) my way through things

And now I leave a trail of blood

From the beating heart I hold.

I believed, for all my life, that my illusory, aloof facade

Was my greatest asset to show

That nothing could stop the smooth and powerful girl

Who peered down her poised nose


For the reckoning hour did finally come,

Snarling, ravenous on my doorstep

Soul trembling with the despair of losing all semblance of what I thought was within control

Disassembled, dissolving, coming apart at every seam

Engulfed by the dark veil of unknown, grasping in darkness, falling in darkness, swirling infinitely inward


Being composted into new iterations of being


Softer in this unfamiliar form

Delicate and enraptured, dripping in the fluids of amniotic reclamation

My reflection is utterly different now

She, looking back at me, has an undulating warmth in her eyes

She’s flushed with the pleasure of being alive

She’s taut with the anticipation of love in every breath

She’s the one whose lived in places of banishment for devastatingly long

She’s home again.

Here, in me.

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