Like her doll,
Carried around,
Used,
Played with.
Left here and there.
Her little body,
Accustomed to being used.
Like a little toy.
Eventually fell apart.
Its limbs scattered,
Pulled from every direction.
That's it,
It's finished being played with.
Now,
Give her back her little doll.
So she can finally understand,
That this is how
She too will end.

Opposed,
Linked.
Linked by memory,
An unbroken bond,
Braided.
They speak to each other,
Nourish each other.
Her soul split in two,
Between night and day.
One cannot exist without the other.
In the hollow of the tree,
She looks at herself,
Fractured,
Waiting to be reunited.
Her two selves sustain,
Protect,
And reject each other.
An inner life
That only she can know.

Confronted by her contradictions.
How did she end up here?

In her head,
Deep in her eyes,
A mirror of her soul.
She is torn.
Navigating between her two worlds.
She is breaking apart.
Night, day,
Light, shadow,
Heat, cold.
A fragile balance
That protects her,
That opposes her,
That keeps her alive.
This suspended moment
Where she tries to stand tall,
Strong,
Without tipping into excess.
Will she manage to sew herself back together alone?
Then she closes up again,
And becomes one again,
On the surface.
Inside,
The battle continues.

Dissociated from herself.
The separation of two souls.
One is locked behind the mirror, trying to reunite,
The other moves toward the light.
She looks at this pendant, a relic of a time when she was still
whole, when her inner child still lived within her.
She is a swan.
Within her, wings, a head, a silent metamorphosis
emerge.
A little animalistic.
Her reactions become instinctive, almost primal.
A transformation that protects her as much as it distances her from
herself.
She does not look back.
As if she had chosen to abandon her damaged part, her
black swan.
To abandon what she knows, what she once was.
She disowns her past, without truly healing.
She disowns herself.
Each fragment of this canvas is a piece of her,
One day, perhaps, she will have the strength to gather them together.
For trying to rebuild herself alone, incomplete, will not be enough.
The bond remains.
Her memory, the braid, the roots, invisible but indestructible,
continue to connect them, to nourish one another.
The only way is to become one.
One day, she will have the strength to turn around.
To look at herself.
To find herself again.
To face her past,
Her wounds.
To truly look at herself.
In this mirror.
As she is.
Finally whole.
She wishes it.
But for now...
She (they) gives (give) up

She holds it in her hands,
Hidden from view.
All that remains of her childhood soul.
She knows it is still there.
Deep inside her.
The path to find it is dark.
Paved with visions in the night,
That vanish in the daylight.
So she focuses on what still lives within her,
This fragile light.
Is it still there?
She sets out to find it.
To reclaim her lost innocence.
She protects it.
All along the way,
I am behind myself.
She will not let me down.
She still shines,
Safe and warm,
Preserved,
In my hands,
My light.

I carry my home on my back,
Inside my shell, where everything rests.
My feelings, my memories, my experiences.
Some carry their roots inside themselves,
For having failed to find a home in the world.
So,
They move forward,
With their home on their back.

A feeling of emptiness, of stepping back, of distance.
She is behind her body, beside or above it.
She sees herself,
Moving forward... or sinking?
Hope comes and goes, fickle, trying to bring together
her two parts
And regain her feelings.
In transition,
Towards the union of these two inner entities.
Their reconciliation,
After they have protected one another.
It is time to bring them together.
This path seems long to me.

Blocked in her head
Locked in her thoughts.
She looks at herself,
They merge.
One feeds the other,
The other consumes her.
They will not let go.
They cannot.
She is the same.
But different.
One froze a long time ago,
The other lives on the surface.
The day they see only one
face,
Then,
Finally,
She will come home.

Drawn to the mountains,
Those who watch over me,
They tear from me my deepest fears,
From the depths of my empty body.
Nature,
Which repairs,
Which heals,
Which (re)builds.
And when everything has disappeared,
They will still be there,
Stronger than us,
More faithful than you,
Guardians of the Earth.
The mountains,
The great women of nature.

Inside, everything becomes blurred,
No more sensation, I split in two.
A disconnect between me and the world,
Between me and myself.
So I wander through other landscapes,
Sometimes beyond reality,
In this parallel reality
Where I get lost
Then find myself again.
My reflection,
This time transformed.

Behind her,
Separated from the moment.
Disconnected from her own body
As if she were no longer really there,
In this world.
As if she had withdrawn deep inside herself,
Into the depths of her being.
No, she is no longer there.
She looks at these two hands.
Frozen.
Deformed.
Whose do they belong to?
So, she asks herself
“Am I in a dream or in reality?”
But what reality?
Her mind is no longer inside her.
It has flown away.

Predator of herself.
She transformed herself to protect herself.
Metamorphosed.
Her animal instinct took over.
She attacks.
Defends herself.
Hurts herself.
What has she become to herself?
So,
She devoured her own heart,
Her own light,
Before someone else could do it.
This heart,
Still alive.
She absorbs her own life force,
To keep existing.
She knows what she must do.
He had warned her,
She would open her eyes.
She would be transformed.
So,
She bit into the forbidden fruit.
And the world opened up.

In the crucible of shadows past,
I am reborn like dawn after the night.
Breaking the chains of my buried fears,
I forge a path toward a clear morning.
Guardian of the roots, the Earth whispers.
Through the trees, the flowers, and the mountains,
Which reassure,
She heals, builds, renews without end,
A tender refuge where my soul finds rest.
Despite the steep and rugged trails,
My inner fire, burning deep and bright,
Rises in flames, illuminating my virtues,
To draw from within me strength and light.
Thus is written the song of a new beginning,
Where life dances, vibrant and full of hope.

Floating body.
Levitating above myself.
A moment of floating.
Everything becomes blurry,
Unreal.
Where am I?
In a dream?
In reality?
I leave my body,
Step outside myself,
And go to explore my inner self.
Elsewhere.
Where I see myself,
Outside of her.

This bust turned into armor,
Separated from the one who once inhabited it.
This body fought.
It defended itself, protected,
Sometimes too much, sometimes not enough.
It was ravaged,
Used to the point of wear.
Wounds accumulated upon it,
Indelible traces left behind,
By repeated battles and efforts,
Integrated into the very material.
Becoming one.
Little by little, she abandoned it.
Herself.
Set aside.
The armor rests beside her,
Detached from her own body.
It no longer belongs to her.
That which was meant to protect her,
Has become too heavy to bear.
Frozen,
She has become a statue.
Her weapons were left there,
Her strength vanished,
Her wounds became part of it,
Swallowed by nature,
Which slowly grows over this deserted body,
Transforming the violence of the past.
Her bust is abandoned.
Scarred.
Silent.
But,
In these ruins,
Beneath the feathers,
A light persists.
Faint, but intact,
Protected by a fragile peace.
It waits,
For the moment the soul will return,
Not to fight again,
But to repair,
To inhabit it in a different way.