The Tiniest Russian Doll

Today she appeared, heralded by tears and by unspoken fears that have no words.
She lives inside my head, remembers what was said, became someone else instead, became me.
But once I was that child, unbroken, running wild, that long forgotten child, I was she.
But one day it wasn’t safe, for that whimsical waif, and she didn’t feel so brave, so she hid.
And I helped her hide away, in the hope that one day, there’d be another way, for her to be.
But she hid away so long, I forgot she’d ever gone, I just felt like I was wrong, it was me.
But I was missing a vital part, a part of my heart, one there at the start, now lost at sea.
In dreams tossed and torn, her remnants blown forlorn, I treated her with scorn, that child.
But she holds my tears, and she holds my fears, and as separation nears, she broke free.
And today she tried to speak, barely louder than a squeak, but to squeak is still to speak and she was heard.
Emotions laid bare, body frozen, purple chair, an experience so rare, I was stunned.
She burst out of me, my eyes could not see, and when he spoke to me, she replied.
And yes, I was there, pinching fingers, pulling hair, I sat rigid in that chair, but wasn’t me.
Later, marks on my skin, I hadn’t felt my nails sink in, how do I even begin, to explain?
How it feels to be, sitting inside of me, sharing me with she, but self aware.
And I’ll listen to her now, now that I know how, I make this a solemn vow, a vow to me.
She’s the most important one, and I’m so glad that she’s come, without her we are none, she is me.
I’m in such a state of flux, I need her now so much, I feel I’m at the crux of life itself.
I can’t promise to repair what filled her with despair, but now that I know she’s there, I can try.
I feel like she’s the key to what’s broken inside me, to what I’m supposed to be, my truth.
If integration is the goal, then today, I felt more whole, than I have in any role, since I was she.

 Art Journal Sketch Series. Watercolour Pencil on Paper. Image and accompanying Poetry Copyright Katy Matilda Neo, 2017.

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