When asked what I see when I look in the mirror
I said “my eyes”
That is true
I see that my eyes see me when the rest of me is un-seeable and so I keep my focus there when all else feels so lost
It is easier for me to focus on my eyes
My eyes feel like the easiest way to acknowledge my existence that neither confirms nor denies
Yet just because neither confirming nor denying is the easiest truth, it also has its hardness
Just because I only want to see my eyes when I look at myself at this point in my existence, that is not all that my eyes see
My eyes see my chest that has been put into oppressive religious underwear, aggressively sexualized bras, compression layers, and out in the open as it is to feed a new human body and to simply exist
None of these states protected me from entitled and violent attacks on my identity that I did not and still do not know how to not want out loud
My eyes see my hips and back so warped by all that I held in
All that there still does not seem to be the space for this world of humans to receive, but that trembles through this construction anyway as I let go all that I no longer will hold in
My eyes see my legs that used to run so hard trying to get somewhere or to get away
And how complicated it is to love their power and their endless stride
My eyes see my belly that is now stretched and soft because this body was home to another body I now get to have to try to want to hate to need to guide through this world
My eyes see the loss and the amplitude of being and becoming earth for someone specific to live off of exclusively—the trauma and the gift of seeing how much I have never been seen
My eyes see my vulva that was the strongest place of my refusal to be what someone else makes me
It refused to relax for anyone because it couldn’t and also because it wouldn’t—the trauma and the gift of having to leave it to my body to protect me through so much unwindable tension
My eyes see inside to this chaotic and patterned nature that holds my energy in the way it was trained because the systems of my body were un-existed long before I showed up where I showed up
My eyes see that nature drops bombs because humans make life too stiff to hold itself
My eyes see how much I want to explode into nothing and everything
And my eyes see that this explosion is mine even when I want it to belong to others and so I trigger carefully activated mini combustions in the most neglected corners first in the hopes that by the time I am fully detonated it will have somehow been gentle for us all because all I ever wanted was a nice day together as me with you where I am not the fireworks for their parade, I hate parades
I see you, eyes
I am sorry you have been witness to so much in isolation, so much that I did not want to see and perhaps did not know how to see with you
I am trying to see what you see and not just what others say they see, they do speak so loud and so un-curiously, in such threatening tones
I hope you know I am trying to believe what you see because I am pretty sure it is how we have a nice day together
