Here Again

Here again—
born again
to chisel all over again.
To carve,
to shape, to groom,
and to fit into the room
that never asked me to stay.


Born again—
to write and live,
to write the un-written muses,
to embark on a novice voyage
that feels both brave and foolish.
To slice and dice this life
into a new beginning—
or another ending dressed in disguise.


Here I am.
No matter what.
Finding my voice
while losing my certainty.
Affirming my identity
even when I don't recognize it in the mirror.

I'm trying.
I may be the ugliest.
I may be bad.
I may be good on days I forget to be proud.
But I'm here—
stubborn, scarred, and strangely standing.


Here again—
and to hear again.
To be with you
and forever—
if forever exists
outside of fairy tales and fine print.
If not, then in these lines,
preserved like pressed flowers
between pages no one reads
except me
and maybe you.