There is neither pure light nor pure darkness
that we may wander.
The balance between worlds is our buoy.
Our ability to hold firm the center
is the gauge of our scramble.
Should we lose sight and fall
we will feel the pull of the waters.
But we were destined to breathe and not drown.
The light will rise and fall on our island,
a daily cleanse and fresh garment for every branch.
And we are the Suns of the world,
Pushing the pet
Light and beauty reach for one another
that the world would see my face.
The flourishes I aid to life, a gentle leaf
folds towards the sun and spills out my spirit,
a branch, a bud, a bushel.
You do not see me everywhere.
It’s not that I’ve been hiding.
You’ve been busy and I don’t mind
for I am an independent woman.
My rage simmers, my bitterness
turns to sour berries, t
The hatch’s been jimmied.
I’m loose in the corridor.
A steady notch ticks.
I’m bull-riding the score.
I go against my sense.
I pay for what they stole from me.
My shoulders break, my elbows tweak
and still I chin up on my destiny.
From the hidden box
of my uncurled shame
my unsung voice squeaks a flame.
It sets a date and burns my name
(off the records).
In the places where miracles are won, in the place where delivery is met, and sent from, words resound, silently. In the places within, in the infinity of distances gathered, the skies of light and darkness, my faith is renowned, sounding like a gong in heaven. You have heard me singing. You have heard my song, the swish and thump of my dance. You have seen my rise from death, my trudge along the waters. Tears of relief, have wept at my mirage. When the sheaves have fallen and the monarchs clust