This is Number Three

"And I am a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three."

          -Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath

Waking up to the morning
When you've barely woken up to reality
Such a slap in the face
Such a show of grace
And chances

I ride, I run
To the place where I will be reborn.
Breathless and torn.

Nine months I have been hiding.
In my head
In inks of black and red
Of dreams that have been paused
The tragedy of their causes.

In this womb
I regrow
My eyes - the vision of me
-the vision of you
-the vision of the world
My hands
-determined to do things better than ever,
some never done before
My feet
-would run and dance and climb and descend where my music will take me
And everything - everything
Will heal
Will be renewed
Will be a body that has learned.

My heart
-I still am. I am. I am.

I am a smiling girl.
I am not yet eighteen.
And like the cat I have nine times to live.

This is Number Three.

This life,
Bumping into real life Barbies
Stepping into the life of the wealthy
I find that
I feel like I can make it
I am not like them
But I am myself
And by God, I will live!

I crave to live my poetry
I crave to see it come to life
To share it with someone
I crave to be brought back to life.

And, aye,
It is still morning
And all we have is waiting
The silence
Between eight people
(Apparently, only a few want to teach English someday)
And I hope
And I pray
That I will be happy here
That I will not just be existing.

Living.