,,,,,,,,,,

maybe
it is my pink polka dotted innocence
that convinces me it’s a beautiful dream i’m remembering wrong
or that it’s a vivid story colored with laughs,
dimly remembered as horrifying
or as evil; it doesn’t matter.
she was shy and nervous and allergic
and self-doubting,
a spider, stomped out of her home
a caged bird, making noise too quietly
a naked tree, skinny and cold and bare
forced to bear the harsh chills whipping her hair
around her skeleton frame with feet too big
and knees too knobby and breasts too pointy—
that’s what the men say
but they will still laugh and take turns
keeping her warm.
and all she wants is to be carried home
but that sweet chariot isn’t swinging low enough.

and here i am looking away
drinking watered down wine
drunk on my comforts and feeling so safe.
come awake, beloved.
and my glossy blue eyes like pearls
see that i’ve become a harlot with hands full of blood
and beautiful nightmares.

and she’s beautifully shy and nervous and allergic
and she’s self-doubting and
lovely and talented and worthy and valued
making noises that make music
it’s quiet but it’s music.
and hope may be here
and the chariot may be near
and the tender light once so dim speaks,
I am going to set you free, beloved.
and she smiles and she’s free,
once a caged bird making noise too quietly
now flying and singing and perfect and protected

wash your hands, beloved.
don’t look away.
embrace it
embrace it
bring My Life with all things new.