The First Day

The first day you reclaim yourself

is the best. The weight of those

invisible chains falls away, and

the cloud of grief breaks into animals

in the sky, light shining around

and through them, all the way

into your heart, lighting you up

from the inside. You know,

like you used to be

before someone stole your spirit,

snuffing you out like a candle,

dragging you through gutters

in dark alleys past backdoors

of illicit shops and dirty dive bars,

used condoms, cigarette butts, and half-

empty takeout wrappers tangling

in your hair like their fingers

used to do.

The first day is like a shower

after you stand up in the full light

of a daytime boulevard, seeing

everything you suffered, the debris

clinging to you like it’s yours,

right out there in the open

for the whole world to see,

shaming you.

And then you scrub yourself clean,

all of the garbage falling

away, leaving you naked

in your shiny, clean soul,

finally free of the filth

of opinions of someone

who never even saw you.