Forget about the sun,
You who have not seen the sky an age—
Your shadows burn too dark.
I will sing in the sunlight,
I will dance in the rain!
I will find the light buried deep…
You experience love only through grief,
You cut yourself and others with your cold.
How will you ever fit into normal?
I carry the echoes of old wounds,
But I smile all the same.
I am me. I am. I just am!
You are one who cannot look upon a newborn child,
In the creeping cold you lie alone,
You birth weird words and wasteful things you call stories!
My words are my spirit guides,
They are healing and warming and companionship,
Bleeding away the dark like pink lightning—
With them I march,
With them I speak,
With them I am heard.
Read this week’s short story: Waiting