She stands in the centre, 

a map with no compass, 

turning to meet the voices 

calling her name, one by one. 

 

There’s the mirror, 

whispering, "Remember yourself." 

But she only catches glimpses— 

the edges blur, 

fading into faces around her. 

 

A mother, a partner, a daughter, 

she wears each role like a second skin. 

She moves through the rooms, 

fills the spaces with care, 

yet the silence presses, 

asking, Where do you go? 

 

Sometimes, in the small hours, 

she wonders if there’s a line 

where the needs stop pulling 

and the weight lifts. 

 

Her heart is a circle, 

wide and open, but heavy. 

The answers don’t come, 

so she walks on, 

hoping, somewhere, 

the questions will quiet. 

 

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