Skyward.

You, who cast a shadow on my doubt,
Who raised me up
A "lion-hearted girl"
Hold me close in this smoking twilight
And then push me far away.
Giving space, for me or for you?
Tracking footprints through the dawn,
Wounded and limping
Needing reassurance,
Feeling blind and blindly,
If you saw that ray of sun, could you fall in love again?
Do you still, every time?
And is that why you keep your eyes shut so tight?

Far from home.

Long roller-coaster night.
Coasting into the station, I step out of my cocoon for a minute,
To pluck a star from the still-dark sky.
I let it drift between my fingers and
Rest on top my palm.
I harvest another, and more,
And lay them gently in the trees across the street
One by one until they
Spark aflame, orange and blue glowing.
I tap the grass to set them twinkling,
And by the time I am done, I see I have
Borrowed them all, every sparkling star for my own.
I look up and I realize
Dawn has come over the mountains, and my little charges
Are far from home.

Singing.

Step-two-three
One-two-three
Keep pushing, keep going.
Keep your head up, girl
One foot in front of the other
Keep singing and dancing
Swinging and laughing through
Another Sunrise.
Picking my way among the weeds,
Breathing in the night air
And out my heavy dreams.

I am bright, I am aching.
I am learning
I am temporary
I am lost, I have lost.

Prince of Travellers.

I took your light and
And mine and I made a map
It led to you and it led to me and
I drew it down into my pocket,
Secret and safe,
"I'm always in this twilight, in the shadow of your heart"
"I knew that somehow, I could find my way back."
Muse and master,
Murder and mischief.
That spark and glow,
You've managed to keep me captive, too.
In an instant, I realize that the thrill for you, as for me, is in the chase, and if I've ever been caught, it's now, but if I'm ever been caught, it's over.
Keep it difficult, keep a distance and a break, arm's length is the only place you're ever quite comfortable.
Too close burns too hot, play this game and we both win.
If it sounds like a goodbye, that's because
It is.

Melisande.

Or, "Second act turning point."

Mother, with your beautiful children
Love them, listen to them,
Their songs of simple joy and sticky-fingered afternoons
Hold on to every one before it's swept away.

We go, our paths arching twisting threads
We come back, complete somehow
Back where we started, with new information.
Run this ellipse long, just hoping we double back
Before it's too late.

Gazing, sidelong and wistful out and in.
Every step another chance to ask the question
Is it time, yet?
You always asked me, is it time yet?
The answer, not yet but soon.
In the end, did what was right,
What had to be done.
I've yet to be wrong, yet to fail.
I don't fail at anything and I'm not about to start.
Wherever the wind takes me,
I always said.

And so I asked the moon, as she stared rudely through the windows
I asked her about my path, if it was right,
If I'd ever look back in regret,
If I was making a mistake, failing myself somehow
“Will there be rainbows, day after day / what will I need to be free?”
The moon, in her wisdom, simply went on with her silent watch over the little creatures of the night,
The bats' and the owls' quiet time-keeping
And rose ever slowly in the sky.

Air. Port.

My heart and my head always have this war, there standing on the curb,
A brief skirmish between will and destiny.
My soul's giants turned for a moment on eachother,
In a quiet moment's evaluating pause:
I could stay. I could just turn back around and walk away from this sliding door
Turn back into the gray sunlight
Hold fast to something I once called home.
I know my way, here – could walk the green hills
And dark rivers with my eyes closed.
I feel a deep and longing comfort here,
A closeness.
An ease.
Bones' belonging ache.
But I turn, in that instant, momentum sweeping me on.

Fabric.

An idea flashed before me.
A what if, a may be, hap, or will.
A thing done in love, or in haste?
Selfish or selfless?
Just another rescue?
Or a gift, an offering.
No strings attached, that's sure.
No bond or expectation.
Just a contract, an opportunity.
A solution.
What if.
What if you,
You and I,
If we were to,
Weave a story out of cloth
That was part truth and part the fabric,
Out of necessity.
You and I, warp and weft
Tied and not,
But still free as we will...
Cogs spinning, I am not one to be swayed by reason or doubt.
Once made, always stayed...
You and I
What if?

A bright fire.

I am fierce.
Fierce and beautiful,
Lustful lustre in my rolling eyes.
I look over my shoulder once, twice
But charge ahead, a bright little fire
Bursting in an instant into dance
Into song or flame or any other heated endeavor
That might distract or comfort me.
I find a strange clarity in these moments,
Moving close enough to breathe in the smoke
Of my own burning heart.
Soot and mirrors light my way.

Tell me, please.
Tell me you traced her curves, and drew her a line,
Hook and sinker.
Give me a stinging embrace, close.
Tell me everything, that it might help me find a strange
Distance.
That I might not ache so much.
The only thing I'm really looking forward to
Is soon half a world away, or a whole one.
Give it back, please.
I want it back.
I find this character closer than I ever thought,
Maybe finding some acceptance of myself between the lines,
Love and penance well-dealt,
Some redemption burned in my thigh, too.
Or my heavy feet, as it were.

Given a choice, a fork in my path:
My life's wild passion on one side,
And 180 degrees of the unknown on the other.
Some game, spiteful fuel for my stubborn fire,
Feed my pride, my folly, maybe one great mistake.
Maybe not.

You, wolves.
Tearing pieces to take with you
Tearing me down in your hunger, your jealousy.
I am toxic, and furious.
I am fierce and lovely.
I fall down, I get up, I keep running.
Just to spite your teeth.