The time has come when, with elation I am greeting myself arriving at my own door, in my own mirror and each is smiling at the other’s welcome, and say, sit here. Eat.

I am loving again the stranger who was my self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back my heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved me all my life, whom I ignored for another, who knows me by heart.

Taking down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes, peeling my own image from the mirror.

Sitting. Feasting on my life.

Derel Walcott