The Form

When I imagine that I’m not,

Remind me that I am a shadow:

Look through me like I am a ghost,

Walk past me with a sudden shudder;

/

Do not allow me to forget

That I am not a whole but pieces

Together strung, together torn

Away from the key one, gone missing;

/

When I pull on my human skin,

Do not believe the frail illusion,

And through your eyes don’t make me see

What I once used to be – a woman;

/

I must forget the one I was,

Give up the rights to love and to desire,

And find a fuel to feed the fire,

Which burns on in my heart against all odds;

/

When you imagine that I’m not,

I must remind you I’m a shadow:

Look at you as if through a veil of cold

And walk right past you nonchalantly

Beautiful

If only for a day

I had a woman’s beauty,

Not wisdom, love or courage

But a spellbinding face

/

Long limbs, thin frame,

And an entitlement to silence,

Which one is only given

By beauty’s tender hands;

/

I wonder what it’s like

To be admired

Not for a timely joke

Or for a kind embrace

/

But simply for one’s presence –

The presence of a candle

In a world lit

By pale glow of plain lamps

/

If only for a day

I knew this power

Which all the elements

Are willing to obey

/

Next day, I know

I’d have to be devoured

By the monstrosity

My mirror’s used to showing