Standing before a mirror in the wet bathroom something in the music playing makes me recall how I was before. Remembering the past differently now, I no longer recoil at myself, shy away from it, I remember it, embrace it all; how I was, how I gave and I was light, you know? Tender, fierce, all things. I didn’t know it for years. I take the tears I find at the end of my face, run them along the path in my hair. This is good, I say. This returning to the self, the acknowledgement of good inside one self. The return of respect. I run the water over my eyes. Close them. Outside it is getting warmer, the sound of the street filling up rises to my window.
