glimpse of us

 I have always been drawn to the roots of childhood, identity, and what makes me stand out from the people next to me.  Being in a season of life where I am getting ready to take steps toward the beginning of my future, I felt a little nostalgic.  I often wonder if the younger version of me would be proud of where I am now.  I miss being young and navigating the world through innocent bliss.  Over the years, I have watched myself drift away from the inviting, confident, bubbly spirit I embodied as a young girl.  I miss when I didn’t worry about the future and the most important thing in my life was going to gymnastics practice.  I think this was one of the hardest poems to write because I noticed how easy it is to remember the joys of growing up and that it’s okay to hold onto the little girl inside of you.  Finding the sole purpose of writing this was difficult.  Why is it important to remember how you grew up or how it has shaped you now?  Why do I feel like I am not ready to remember?  Why is the younger version of me so brave?  Why am I intimidated by who I used to be? Glimpse of Us is a testament to growing up and not letting go of your inner child – they deserve to continue the journey with you.

Glimpse of Us by Anyah Jackson

The girl I see in the 

mirror looks a lot like 

me. 

She only visits on occasion, 

when I’ve lost my way; 

Small dainty fingers

tap on the glass.

Her eyes, deep and brown,

glow like honey when the sun 

passes through illuminated 

innocence.

She waits for me

to step onto her side;

see the world

from behind the glass

I’m not ready. 

She smiles at me.

Teeth spread like 

monkey bars you can’t 

reach; the gaps 

wait to be filled. 

Her brown skin glistens

in her white dress. 

She twirls and her afro 

bends like a handpicked 

dandelion – someone 

holds to make a wish. 

I remember the 

night sky filling 

with fireflies; running 

through ornamental grass; 

neglecting the way it itches

my legs– I watched them 

shimmer in moonlight.

I inhaled the stale

summer air,

salt soaked in 

the magic of 

adolescence.

I look into the mirror

to see her backside. 

She took careful steps away

from me; her arms gently

swung past 

her side. 

I watched until she 

disappeared. 

I envied the fireflies 

that followed her

footsteps.

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