Photography Exhibition
It feels strange, disconcerting,
seeing yourself on the walls.
Not yourself, per se; you are not the focus
of the little framed lives laid against brick.
But yourself as parts of your soul
beautiful little horcruxes (sans soul-mutilating murder).
I manage to detach
as I hang and crimp and straighten
but as soon as I step back
breath in the stark reality of my Self on display
it comes rushing back
that nakedness
filling the void left by the cessation of manual fiddling
water surging through a breach in the hull
threatening weak knees and
should my matchstick defenses fall.
This is a big step
a point of no return
and I can't promise I won't crumble some night
but my legs are strong enough now, I think
to withstand.
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