Ink Poem by Cherie Mort

I crouch at the edge of a pool filled with thick black ink
I peer into it, unable to see anything but my murky reflection
Dipping my fingers into the ink, I am suddenly pulled into the pool
Surprisingly, it feels like I am swimming in water
I look up and see the light of the surface
I quickly swim towards it as I lose oxygen, gasping as I climb out
As I place my hand on the stone ledge, hauling myself out of the pool,
I notice strange markings on it
A glimmer across the way catches my eye; it is a mirror
I stand up and examine my body
I see patterns on my skin that were not there before:
A band of black across my eyes, roses on my hips and collarbones,
A pasha riding an elephant, wild horses on the plains of my body
Tribal patterns etched into my skin
Mountains, suns, and a million moons
Feathers of birds and bones of men

The ink has changed me, but I am not changed by the ink