The butterfly and the chrysalis

I am through

tonight the mirror cracked from side to side

and i saw you clearly, 

you locked me up that night, tight as a butterfly in a chrysalis who

has her secrets, all but the one you could not keep

for I had a voice.

you kept me in a silent prison of thirty years, repayment, no doubt,

for the light I shone on you,

in that chrysalis-prison where

I locked myself tight as if in a womb wrapped in denials,  and words, when

your words came at me like bullets

your words of derision,

and I believed  (I believed!)




those three weapons slicing me in two

the most effective in your arsenal

fired at moments of closeness

 (I believed you)

I crawled through thirty years

of self-hatred, and feasted for comfort

hungered for it

hid wrapped in the heavy comfort i carried ever with me

your magic words, dark sorcerer

becoming true

(you, the all powerful)

those layers made me invisible to love

to the world,

and soon you didn’t even have to say them anymore


they played themselves in my head

like demons dancing round an infernal fire

in my soul.

i buried that night

and hid from mirrors ever afterwards fearing the truth

it would reflect

your truth

never mine.

you, fearing a child’s truth


tried to silence me

sought to rape me with your hatred

succeeding while I chased you with open arms


running from your darkness

I kept running even after God killed you

six foreign countries and countless cities later

the chrysalis, black and shiny laid inside me a letter unopened

my ugliness I called it and never named it

never spoke it

my voice muted for years on end

me desperately trying to find my voice in writing

in soft summer nights and

cold winter evenings

when you were as inaccessible as the stars in the sky

and I always five years old inside

and the layers of years, of pain of hiding

I carefully built onto myself with the

care of an architect

Truth came visiting me unawares this night

and your reflection every time I saw my face in

the mirror cracked

then shattered

the chrysalis

not ugly

not fat

not unlovable

that mirror an illusion only

and I the butterfly

making her way

out into



I, finally free





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About Me

poet, diarist, writer, teacher, woman, fragile, strong, northern life is my domicile, my barbaric yawp exudes against the tide


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