reflection before i turn 18

poetry and photography by jill desmarais

I do not have the heart to tell

My guardian angel that I will

Be a woman of the world soon.

She knows people still underestimate 

Me, she knows that I’m still picking

Which scar hurts the most.

I’m still trying to keep those in mind

Who have hurt me and ran off to God 

Only knows where.

I’m still trying to to keep secrets to 

Myself; tie a knot around each of them 

And throw them to the sky.

Gravity is no issue.

Remember that I’m still naive.

Sometimes I still think the full moon

Is following me on the car ride home.

Remember that I’m still nostalgic.

I trace stars on fogged-up windows,

Tell the barista to keep the change.

I’m still touching wind-chimes that don’t 

Even belong to me.

I’m still an empath that doesn’t flinch when 

Her feelings are disrupted, toyed with, clawed

At and dismantled.

On my 18th birthday, the angels will be with me.

I will have a halo as well.