Haunted

By Fleur Lilliott

I often think I am haunted. 

Haunted by the ghosts of my past,

like fragments of my own imagination coming to life, in woven ingredients of air and memories. 

I see my younger self, scared and alone,

Unsure how to navigate the pressures of incoming womanhood, like the beaming headlights of an approaching car. 

She squints, shakes, looks around nervously,

Even though no one is around, as if waiting for something to happen. Something that will forge her into a woman. 

I still feel that same apprehension. 

It burns through us all, shading our blood red, binding us in a commune of shared experiences and emotions. 

My ghosts come and go, like beads of smoke, but they remind me of my strength, my resilience.

In the magic that resides in us all.