In this mausoleum
I lay my past to rest.
Encasing within these latticed walls,
the hurt that was met.
The tomb I erect,
resolutely making it stand.
Leaving those who gaze upon it
in awe of the grand.
‘An ode it must be of a magnificent past!
Such reverence it exudes of days that could not last.
The architect imbues the mausoleum with her somber grace,
now in life feeling lost and displaced.’
A place of mourning it is not.
Nor of sorrow, of something lost.
Remembrance is what it evokes,
of hardships and suffering brought.
Pain and sorrow
is what these walls hold,
from which I wished to flee.
In plain sight
I hid it for long.
Now, for all to know and see.
Each hurt, each scar,
left an indelible etch onto me.
This is the way I chose to remember
how I came to be.
My tears have run dry.
No longer am I afraid.
I stride with my head held high.
In the pool of sorrow I no longer must wade.
This is a testament to not what was lost,
but to what was gained.
The strength and the resilience that I now harbor,
no other path could have sustained.
Fear flutters away with the wind,
shame dissolves into sand.
The past is now buried.
My future stretches out at hand.
