After Rene Magritte, The Therapist, 1937
By: Nahomi Alemu
Shame is a cloak,
unequivocally masking the unpleasant.
When I peek from under
it is my reflection I see
only, what stands before me is distant.
Like a cold salty shore
and an infinite horizon of vapor
we stand on opposite ends.
separated by a confinement
of my making.
I yearn so deeply
to embrace my reflection,
to ignite like a match stick
vigorously stricken,
to become one again.
We could take flight
to the tune
of the whistling wind,
leaving behind the stiff bars
of self judgement
that I had placed
part of myself in.