I suppose when I stopped being close enough to touch you wanted to make me bleed,
To prove you could still hurt me? To prove I still cared?
What are you doing? Child of dust and conceit.
I am untangled from birch-silver ropes of smoke and snowy feathers,
Hardened to earth-brown eyes and pale, harsh lips.
You’re slashing at mist and the ghost of love,
Unsubstantial and careless is your target.
In a room alone, aware of your lost kin,
Lonely, scared creature, skeletal and selfish.
Trying to dig in your china claws, but my skins’ armour is my own,
AND YOU CANNOT GET IN.
And just when you started to sting,
Another, golden to your silver,
banished your claws from my soul with blue fire,
hard words and a soft heart, well, somewhere,
Wreathed in brotherhood and kindness,
protected by honesty and friendship,
He repels you and so do I.
Enough girl, child,
Not a snowy angel or a silvery demon,
Not a monster or a seraphic being,
but a creature of blood and bone,
and weak and hollow.
I am filled with rapturous fire,
burnt free of your contamination,
The pain you have brought and the spite on your tongue,
Ashes on the night air of my home,
My heart is split into hands, a sliver to a child of the earth and discoverer of her secrets, a lump in the hands of a seeker of love and justice, meaning, inside the human mind, a chunk in the hands of one who is seared happily by the wrong light and her love should turn inwards, a fragment in the hands of a hunter with soft skin and shaken identity.
My heart belongs to my people, who I give power over me,
there are no ropes, no fear,
They have power over me, but as I give it, I take it away.
So goodbye, snowy, silvery child, girl, poor soul,
Your burden is no longer mine,
I release you, my soul untangles from your strings of livid red,
Go, now, first love, first pain, first scar.
You shudder, smoke scattered to the night,
and you fade into the blackness between the stars,
gone by first light.