Child Of The Whispering Stars
The stars said to me,
"Little girl, step into us and you will drop like a stone.
Straight down is not flying.
The one we have entrusted you to has painted you thickly with the tar of self-loathing and fear,
Then wrung her hands to white bone, imploring,
'Why do you not fly,
Lazy wicked child?'
Here, sleep a while in the palm of our hands.
Wrap yourself in your own dreams;
Every soul has its own markings
And its own distinct and natural ways.
Your very bones will lighten as you rest.
Cut loose what isn't yours.
Spread what is from east to west.
Now, woman, step into us and be called sister.
Be known by your wings and singularity--
Back from the edge of extinction, alive and beautiful.
Thanks, Mojo, for the inspiration this morning.