Surely you will not break her bones
for your words are more like poison than stones,
seeping in from a single wound
or many over the course of a moon
more intruder, than boon.
Carelessly inflicting rage when she’s present
the venom in your words – clear, transparent.
Filling her up like water in a tub
pour in frustration, malice and spite
apologize and shrug
tell her it’s alright.
Now there she stands, unsure, unready
internal compass entirely unsteady
out in the world, a bird with full plumage, sings
unable to fly for the poison weighs heavy
makes spreading her wings
feel like holding a levee.
Broken she lay, wings bound by fear
but fire stirs, from the depths she rears
igniting her wings from her hearts desire
burning completely before she’ll rise
in smoke, and ash and fire
– Leah Suzette