She sat at the base of the elongated mirror. Legs wide as if preparing to birth the root of her. She told herself the story one last time to hear the weight of truth it bore. Woman lesson come fashioned not in the wisdom of a grandmother's tongue but on the back of a loud whisper stating "When people show you who they are, believe them". She had come to believe a number things. Her hand searched the darkness for the scissors. In her grip, she clearly and consciously inserted the blade into the life line that connected them. Eagerly freeing herself. What the blade could not master, her hands entered the center of the heart chakra pulled the remains from her thoracic. Left hollow she emerged into the oil scented water bathing her spiritual wound with lemon, "Ancestors help me." She returned to the warmth of the enveloping sea.