Look back at the anonymous child who shelters in place
from the cold, convinced the world is unnurturing.
Look back at the doors life dragged me through,
gateways to all the cultural beliefs but never beyond.
Look back at the sum of my choices.
I pretend everything happens for a reason.
Look back at the desperate prisons I constructed for myself,
long before I came to prison.
Look back at the long night of tears. My conscience weeps
over the procession of faces — I’m their regret.
Look back through the multiverse, count all the lives I
could have built if that day hadn’t happened.
Look back at change —
the next minute offers an endorsement.
Look. I can breathe again. A perfectly imperfect
alchemist turning my hard things into gold.
I’m much better off for the looking. More
humble, wise, repentant, knowing I’m my own answer.