here...after

Triptych

One
A woman’s beauty is in her hair- and I am too young to question the wisdom of my father, but still old enough to prepare a way to justify my sudden actions, I think on my own, most times. I wear the reminder he delivers in every one of his unapproving smiles, but at least he smiles, probably in understanding that he made sure I had two strong limbs to balance living on. He had warned me two years ago that I may have had regrets about this, and it’s not that I’ve dismissed his words, but I’ve had to test my own waters.

Two
It had been a woman who told me I was beautiful before any man I thought I could believe, and I didn’t fully grasp what she had meant when she said that she- was in love. But I understood later on. A rose called by any other name would nearly be as deceitful, while I have nothing more than well-angled battle-scars, and the poorly-selected counsel of demons, where even the mirror couldn’t tell me anymore what my name was, it was too busy confusing images of my reflections- soul, spirit, body, spirit, body, soul, body, soul, spirit, spirit, spirit, and I couldn’t dare look into it, I couldn’t bear sight of my decaying self and the greyness below my eyelids, she had slain me, and I was dying.

Three
..Ah want no reminder of who I was then, take this pair of scissors and cut all of meh hair- off. Let nobody look upon me, not man, not woman, let meh remember who I am- again, let me remember ah different pain of rejection, let meh recall the words of my father, let meh dance in the rain at the joy of deliverance, let meh chop away at the lives of these demons, let meh wear the sun on my face to remember the reason for my Lord’s death, let meh recall these things before I forget who I am again. Before I forget who I am in Him.