Rebirth: a poem

By: Katherine Goldblatt

She broke

like a china doll,

shattered upon impact

with the bedrock

of her worst nightmares

that she could not wake up from.

Her shards scattered aimlessly;

the wasted products of dandelion wishes

and whims produced from childhood dreams

and perceptions gazed upon in mirrors.

They fell alongside her

and cracked upon impact; dead on arrival.

All that was left was black;

the shifting shadows of uncertainty

that took the place

of carefully constructed visions

of what she knew to be.

But her bubble had burst,

and that knowledge was gone.

Who was she?

What did she know to be?

She laid there for a while,

dreaming of times swept away

by rivers of change.

Craving the knowledge

she once took for granted,

she cried.

She let the darkness envelop her.

She closed her eyes.

Then, a click –

from somewhere deep inside her.

A key turned in the lock of a hidden door.

Whispers spilled out from behind,

but they were not the wicked ones of the shadows.

They were kind.

They said,

“Darling, you still recognize you.

Bubbles must burst so you can grow.

What you think you see must shatter so you can know

what you are truly made of.

You know what is –

you have all along.”

With that, she finally realized

that she had been familiar

with the truth

the whole time.

Even though it destroyed her,

it was the catalyst

for her rebirth.

It had been there,

and always would be.

With that, she smiled

and opened her eyes.

A version of this originally appeared in
The Teller December 2019 Issue #9

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