Such normalcy begins my life
How regular, how true!
Paper books and jewelry
Clasped by iron;
Silver hooks and rings
Wooden pencils stamped with numbers.
Nothing I keep in canvas tombs is spectacular at all.
But within, ah, inside
The tightness that stalks my breath
My belongings portend not the million rhymes – a thousand lives! – that cry within my head.
At any given moment, paper is in my blood
Ink and swirling words unborn
That live within the crimson flood.
Shaped not by what I carry
Rather what has clung to me;
Pains, and deformities
Torn bones and clicking knees.
My body at times is weak; my limbs move of their own accord
I cannot say why the bones inside
Curve how ribs should never do.
Also, soul-kept, are memories
Of blinding light that touched my skin;
Healing stars that burst with love and
Cured the screaming flame within.
But gnashing teeth, pale shadow-wraiths
Haunt my bones with bitter cold.
They cut apart the light
They want it to bleed out into pale mockeries;
I fight with everything I me
To tame them, make them warm, my own.
I was given words to battle
All the shadows that bleed inside
My words creep past with tainted wings
And burn the darkness as they fly.
Subsequently, consequently, the light prevails in the end.
The blending shadow harmony of all that cuts into my soul
Fades away – just a memory, wavering – never even sure of itself.
But I must carry it all the same.
I tear with words of sharpened sound
They break the cold that pins me down
I feel them warm me, fight what numbness is left.
Words of breath and wind and love –
they cling to me now, my armor, my gift.