She is from ash

In the beginning there was ash.

Tough skin, nails on concrete,

Death only comes when there is nothing left.

And there was nothing left of me.

But one day the sun came blazing through my bedroom window.

My shell of iron melted and all that was left was the ashes of who I used to be.

I thought that would be the end.

Then evening came,

cooled my resolve,

and I made love with the beautiful possibility

that I could be something.

And suddenly there was a tomorrow for me after all.

Ashes in my bed, iron in the morning. Feathers fluttering from my window.

Was it all a dream?

For this body that was “mine” feels brand new. As if I have never seen the birth mark on my left elbow.

That my eyes, deep blue with white flecks, “like waves crashing”, is an ocean that I only just found.

An impossibly ordinary yet extraordinary miracle that I have been here all along. These marks that stretch across skin with scars, wrinkles and dimples are still here, despite it all.

Ashes from the beginning maybe ashes in the end.

Who knows?

But I do plan to go out blazing, with all that I have,

With all that I am.