she ... and she ... and she ... is me

I Celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
— walt whitman, song of myself

Take me in your hand
hold me to the light
turn me this way and that
so that you may see
the pieces of me
reflecting the light
of this heart and soul
the pieces of me
that make up the whole of me.

I am not just one small being.
Like whitman, "I am large. I contain multitudes" 
I say that I AM multitudes
and I sprinkle the blessed holy water on myself
and call them good.

I do not have to be one thing, one person, one woman
the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow
to show you who I am. 
That would be false.
The truth of me is fragmented and faceted. 

Once there was shame for not having it all together,
for being unfocused, scattered
too much and too many
for we are to know who we are and where we fit exactly
and I never have known or fit exactly.


I am gathering in the bits and pieces,
 placing them on the alter, the sacred space.
I am looking each iteration of myself in the eyes,
welcoming her, honoring her, getting to know her deeply.

She and she and she is me.