Let go, they say, of those old stories.
Those tired, sad and misbegotten tales,
The naive, lost or self deceptive memories,
That hold you frozen in embrace.
Who am I then, where do I belong?
If the past doesn’t need to exist
Will today too, one day, be gone?
How do I anchor myself
Knowing that it’s possible for continents to disappear.
All it takes is a moment of truth
A catastrophic facing of my greatest fears.
Courage doesn’t seem to be a shield
Something you get to have magically.
Made instead of myriad tiny dares,
One by one, hold my space, breathe my air.
No wonder many prefer often to hold on
To broken shards of the past so strong.
No fairy godmothers, no genies, no tender kisses,
No dragons slayed, no demons, no beasts to become princes.
Do I grasp a newly sharpened pen and then
Write a brand new me?
As time goes, and fresh ink flows with it
Do I create a history? -alka Dec 2018