The skeleton is scattered upon the old carpet.
The closet’s door is blown to shards,
and blood is splashed on the wall.
It trickles down to the spinning floor.
‘Twas I who dragged out the bones –
for retribution, for pain, for a love much higher than the taught self.
And I look at myself,
“Who shall hoist thee better than thyself?
Return to the earth
through the sacred fire of willful vision and rise, dear Phoenix!
Rinse the ashes off thy vibrant plumage,
and continue where the fight challenged thee last”.