In her new skin
flows the underground waters--
the same that flows
in the veins of her father,
an ancestral flood
of history
and also renewal;
the back-and-forth mystery of time,
like the winding of serpents
in her blood.
It all comes back:
the cloak of invulnerability
made of her weaknesses;
the shining armor
of her raw, sparkling nerve;
the girdle of confidence
made of scars;
the jewels that have
a thousand glittering flaws;
the sword of discernment
forged in the fire of mistakes;
the words of power
that are uncomfortable truths--
all and always contained
under her skin.
The wasteland is no longer
a land of the dead--
it is a teeming womb of the living,
and she is reborn.
Her love is with her
wherever she goes.
No comments:
Post a Comment