I lost myself after my second child.
I grew my hair long and hid.
I wore my clothes long,
and my face was long and lost
in folds of hair and cloth.
I was a whisper. A ghost
sweeping in silent pain. Transparent.
People saw right through me
when I came out of it, when I turned
all the colors and wore them in my skin
my neighbor introduced herself to me.
Three years we had chatted
by our joined fence and she asked,
“Are you a friend of Shawna’s?”
She did not know me.
It was funny. I had just met myself.
Photo by Steinar Engeland on Unsplash
