Unfamiliar Face

I wake up in the morning and I look in the mirror to try and find out where I belong.

Some days I recognize the face staring back; other days it feels like a stranger is living in my skin.

I trace the lines under my eyes, the curve of my mouth,

as if the map of my belonging might be written somewhere there.

But mirrors don’t answer questions.

They only echo them.

And the longer I stare, the louder the silence becomes.

Where do I belong?

In the history I can’t rewrite?

In the dreams I’m still too afraid to chase?

In the body I’m learning to forgive?

Some mornings I leave the mirror without an answer.

Other mornings, I carry the question like a stone in my pocket—

not an answer, but a reminder

that belonging is less about where you are,

and more about learning how to stand in your own reflection

without turning away.