Kia is watching herself in the mirror and

She doesn’t look like herself;

She thinks she did once;

She wishes she did now;

She never will again.

Kia is watching herself in the mirror and

Where there was once the sharp jutting of rocks

There is now ripe grassland, May green, lingering with soft sweet-scented breezes;

Where there was once a blunt cut of cliff edge

There is now a lifetime of ever rolling hills, heart-fluttering peaks, reassuring valleys;

Where there was once the hacked bark of a tree trunk

There are now the dewed, fuzzy stems of daisies and the sticky sap of dandelions;

Where there was once the ground-splitting chasm, swollen with jealous darkness

There is now a blooming of flowers —

And Kia – she, like Persephone, is the seed from which spring blossoms.

Kia is watching herself in the mirror and she doesn’t look like herself.

How can she when her legs are rivers, her arms are streams and her eyes are galaxies?

How can she when she, like Demeter, holds within her an eternity of springs to come?


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