Morning Meditation

When I get up this morning, I'll leave my mask on the nightstand table. 

I'll unpin my natural hair, admire it for a while, and decide: This is it. 

I'll smooth the pleats in my suit pants and the dimples in my thighs, not longing for anything more.

I'll meditate on the drive to work—set intentions of being true, of unwavering, of speaking up, of playing no games.

My colleagues will be confused. 

Unsure of how to acknowledge and accept the change.

Who is this woman with thick, wild hair?

Why does she keep talking when we interrupt?

Why isn’t she smiling at everything we say?

Why is the pitch in her voice so sharp? So serious?

Why do we feel unsettled in her presence?

So I’ll straighten up, adjust my crown, and set my gaze ahead.

This is what I have. 

This is who I am. 

This is what you get.

Author: Rovena