I am tired of reflections
Of everyone holding mirrors,
They never show me an image
I can recognise as my own.

So I set out everyday, to communicate
Through colour, shape and accessories
The me that exists inside.
See that weave in gold?
It’s how I sometimes shimmer.
That arch of my eyebrow?
It holds all the questions
I’ve always meant to ask you.
The way my pallo flows?
It’s how I’d like you
To see me move.

Yes, I am constructed,
Every part of me tells a story.
Look closely, and you might see
Past appearances, an image
Of the woman I know myself to be.