Was that really me?

Yes, but it’s now
gone. You’re just
the radiation, lighter
than the sun stepping
through evening’s window.

No, not gone. The past is
a twisted mirror trying
to bend its way back
to meaningful shape, a face
made of its own grammar,
and you watch as it attempts
to pull coherence into eyes.

Sometimes a word comes
through the glass between you
and shimmers across your blood
and moves into moment. But then
the past falls into itself and you’re left
walking alone, shuffling to a future
and a self that doesn’t yet speak
but can be heard.

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Written for Reena’s Xploration Challenge #279. The prompt was “Was that really me?”