The traveler. Poem

I am a runner, a traveler. I have always been.

I ran from myself. I ran out of me to travel astral universes that can reveal my identity, that can help me to find me.

I searched the Earth to find mirrors to project myself in and see who I really am.

I found many of them.

I was dreaming that the mirror I’ll find is magical and I am Snow White – a stunning air of the enchanted reflection.

Yet, in the image I saw, there was no princess, no Snow White.

Photo by Alex Iby on Unsplash

I saw just ugly sorrows and pains that overshadowed my face. I wasn’t even pretty.

The suffering bounced back, disfigured me and the being I thought I was.

I thought a demon took over my soul and made my face reflect its hideous look.

I sank in the depth of the Earth, in the Shadow world to find the demon and unleash myself from its power.

I roamed and rummaged burning deserts, I burned my skin, fret my legs to the bones, bleed out.

I am still remembering the smell of the boiling blood dried out by the desert dust taking my breath away.

This is when I found its “Ugliness”. I faced it.

I screamed out my voice and my lungs, I cried out boiling salty tears who stung when touching bleeding wounds, I endured all that pain until I thought I cannot bare more.

I surrendered. I wanted to understand why do I have to carry with me this curse.

The only answer I got was that “through the lens of fear, suffering and rage one’s face can be ugly.”

I left then the heart of the Earth to travel to the skies.

I went to meet angels and light creatures.

I flied out to heavens watching my white angel wings en-lacing my body.

I felt so light, like a feather swaying in the wind and so shiny like the morning star.

I asked every light being I met on my way to tell me why do I see that blunt face in the mirror.

Photo by insung yoon on Unsplash

But the only answer I got was that “through the lens of love and acceptance, one’s face can be beautiful.”

I came back disappointed. I looked in the mirror again.

Through that filter of love and surrender each and every scar was radiating a shining golden light.

I saw the prettiest amber eyes washed by the glam tears, flashing rays of hope and love, of kindness and compassion, of truth and graciousness.

That angelic apparel, channeling love through the light tattooed wound scars and shapes is branded to my retina and scratched to my magic mirror.

It reminds me that I am not my scars, I am not my skin, I just am and I chose the lens!

Stay safe!

M.

This poem was written by Mihaela Stancu and has all rights reserved.

(© Mihaela Stancu, published June 2020)

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