The Statue in the Vestibule

You saw yourself as something that
could only be destroyed,
so utterly worthless
that breaking it and taking all the shards
and grinding them to fine powder,
then spreading it across a hearth
to disappear in flame,
was all that it could give.

O breakable statue
inside its vestibule
facing the outside world,
you were trained to fall
and shatter on the floor.

The sadomasochistic faith
of loathing turned inward
has had its long, Dark Age.

The marble veins
must fill again with blood
as when your flesh was new
and cradled in the midwife's arms.

I've come to you and cast a spell.
Like weeping Virgins of the church,
like wooden soldiers from a box of toys,
to life return and leave the vestibule,

for I am you and you were me
and I've walked in the light.