waking up to myself

I am here

waking up to myself.

It is as if I came from a long slumber,
where who I was, who I became, was predetermined by the circumstances of my life
the pain caused to me and the forced moulding of white-supremacist education.
In that slumber, there were moments of joy and laughter,
it was not all suffocating coma.
Yet waking from it- felt like a tearing apart, a falling, where I had to relearn
speech, being, and living again.
This coming together is such a sweet embrace of myself.

I am becoming me.
I am waking up to myself.


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