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  • Writer's pictureJasmine Hardy

The Alchemist

I like to think I have a way with words.

I mix potions inside each black line,

transform amorphous thoughts

into transcendent meaning. It is alchemy.


It goes from basic matter to gold with an

unexplainable healing force.

Yes, my words heal the buried feelings,

the ones that never see the light of day.


The way they tangle together,

like old lovers.

So in sync with each other.


This is my welcome home party.

My solar return,

My rebirth,

This is where I find my strength.


This is where I rediscover my worth.

I’ve had to learn to see vulnerability

as bravery.


Most days,

My lips still quiver.

Scared to say somethin’,

Scared to get caught slippin’ feelin’ something.


Scared to show myself and receive nothing.

Sacred, in return for my sacrifice.


I pray this homecoming leads to a

revelation.

I pray magic fills my mind

and showers my spirit,

with the purest of mixtures.


I pray with each poem,

my voice grows louder.

As purple ink stains my skin,

spills into the page and

onto my tongue.


I pray my words grow teeth

sharp enough to cut through my own

armor.


And I pray,

that somewhere along the way

This alchemy discovers new concoctions

to cure my soul.



Edited by: Leslie Vargas


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