A poem by Eleni Michail
Yesterday I undressed myself.
Intentionally I took off all the layers of clothing I was wearing.
Carefully, one after the other,
I let them silently drop on the floor.
Oh, how painful that was?
Because, under the clothes I put on yesterday morning,
I discovered layers of others that I have been wearing for years.
And those last ones were exceptionally hurtful,
exceptionally aching, exceptionally raw.
For, just like Hercule’s cloak
they have become one with my flesh, one with my existence
and taking them off meant ripping of who I “was”.
So there I stood undressed, vulnerable, fragile, real
wearing my furless skin and nothing more
just like a soft frog,
more alive than ever before
and while in my head I was counting all possibilities
- to be hurt, to be stepped, to be stabbed, to be abandoned -
I was held
I was heard
I was seen
And me?
I held back
I heard deeply
I saw me.