Mirror

This time, I won’t just say I release.

I won’t just whisper it to the wind,

watching it drift, hoping it carries away the weight.

No—this time, I will do the work.

The real work.

The kind that unshackles the soul,

that unearths every root, every whisper of doubt,

that makes space for something new.

About a month ago, I looked in the mirror.

And there he was—his voice rare but weighty,

each word carrying strength, each question pulling at truths

I had yet to face.

We spoke more in silence than in sound,

but when he did speak, his words lingered—

not just in my ears, but in my spirit.

He was a presence I wasn’t used to,

a reflection I wasn’t ready for.

And when he left, it wasn’t just him that departed—

it was the illusion, the comfort in unhealed spaces.

His absence became my awakening.

His leaving became my becoming.

When he left, abandonment rose like a tide—

Release it.

The thought that I am somehow unlovable—

Release it.

The fear that love will always walk away—

Release it.

Because all of this—every single part—is Yah’s plan.

And I refuse to let my eyes be so drawn to a person,

a place, a fleeting moment,

that I lose sight of the work God is doing in me.

So when Yah brings me my mirror again,

I will not see the girl who once doubted, who once feared.

No—I will see her.

The healed her.

The whole her.

The her I prayed for since I was a little girl

spilling stories onto paper,

imagining a love that felt like home.

And now, I co-create with Yah.

A love that is steady.

A reflection that is true.

A mirror that finally shows…

Me.