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.