The Stranger

Who is this stranger staring at me in the mirror?
I know the face with the high sculpted cheek bones
I know the almond-shaped oal black eyes
I know the full thick pinkish-brown lips, and the faint jaggered scar on the cheek.
I have combed the thick coarse sand-red hair a thousand times, but yet I look like a stranger.

To others, I look like a full-grown woman, but in the mirror I see a weak and helpless child.
I see her cowering in the corner scared of her own shadow.

In her eyes I see the hopelessness and despair that she feels as she drowns in the sorrow that constantly surrounds her.
But when I close my eyes and sit still listening to nothing, I can hear it.
I can hear the faint sound of my voice telling to hold my head high, telling myself that it won't be this way forever, and that I am a beautiful black woman who is strong and can accomplish whatever I want.

Who am I to quit fighting?
Who am I to give up on myself?
If I don't believe in myself, then who will?
So now when I look in the mirror, the face with the high sculpted cheek bones that I've always known
The almond-shaped coal black eyes, the full pinkish-brown lips, and the faint jaggered scar on the cheek are beginning to know each other again.
Now I can look into those eyes and see love for myself instead of pity, shame, hopelessness, and despair.
I can feel a new beat from my heart pumping determination and self-worth through my veins.
Though the scars can't been seen and my body has physically recovered, my spirit is still healing.