​The fortress walls were high but they didn’t stop those who wanted to reclaim their superpowers. 
 
Our powers had been stolen long ago and stored on a square cartridge in the file cabinets within the cement-walled warehouse, which resembled both a castle and a jail.
 
The cabinets flew open and the people began to search for their cartridge. None had labels, names, numbers or other identifying markers. We ran our hands along each of them. 
 
For some, their hands automatically stopped on top of the cartridge that belonged to them. Their fingers of their own accord grabbed it. 
 
Others saw a vision of their cabinet and the precise placement of their cartridge.

Most knew by gut instinct. 
 
With cartridge in hand, they began to assemble in a circle. One by one they were called to the center of the circle. Assisted by the elder known as the Loner, they reunited with their superpower. The cartridge was held to their chest, then it effortlessly dissolved within them.
 
A light wave rolled through their body and from an organ emerged a symbol of their unique superpower:
 
A torch from a stomach
A rainbow from the heart
A sword from the kidney
A book from the liver
A waterfall from the skin
 
Celebration erupted. People threw their arms up in praise, dropped to their knees, laughing and crying and dancing.
 
My cartridge was in hand, still not yet assimilated within my body when the faceless men in black came. 
 
They fired their weapons, shooting red beams of light into the crowd. 
 
Those that had united with their superpowers began to fight back with fire and waves and rainbows and swords and books, but just being newly born into their power and taken by surprise, their aim was off and soon they were arrested.
 
I snuck away to a darkened room and dropped to the floor. I shoved my cartridge on a nearby bookshelf, behind a few dusty cassette tapes and crumbled papers. 
 
​Just then, a faceless man entered and pulled me up by my neck. My feet barely touched the floor as he dragged me out. 

I felt a jab in my left forearm: a syringe. A hot liquid shot up my arm and when it reached my heart, I awoke knowing this was not a dream at all.

three giant me’s 
majestic and robust
 
three giant me’s 
regal and proud
 
flattened 
to the ground
 
a few broken pieces
nothing more remained
 
 ***

When I grow a little
I shudder
When I grow a little
I shrink
When I grow too much
I smash myself down
 
That way at least
I control the demolition
 
Last night in my dreams, 
she pulled me up with her
to the blackness between the stars
 
She whispered, 
“Write about the time
they crushed you and
the broken pieces 
went underground.”
 
“I don’t want to write that.
I don’t wish to remember.”
 
“You are made to remember.
Call to the broken pieces and 
they shall rise from the earth.
Gather them like a mosaic
and glue them back together.”
 
“How do I find the glue?”
 
“Touch the earth and pull it up.
The glue is dark and thick like soil.
Pull it up into your body
And glue your pieces together.”

 ​write me into being
so you can see me
 
I lie behind the ferns
and velvet moss slope 
 
at first a scent of lilac
damp soil and wet leaves
 
threads the spider weaves
wrap themselves like grandma’s hands
upon your face
 
bat wing edges 
brush your hair
 
the ground beneath you shifts
as the tree roots whisper 
an invitation 
 
daughter, 
float here among 
the slick black rock

you accept the invitation

and float 
 
as  the whale falls back
after her majestic breach
your body succumbs to
weighted blankets
of ocean tides 
 
write me into being 
so you can see me
 
Then I shall go
for I am not of words
 
I am the mystery 
I am the infinite
I am You