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Poem

Her anthem was silently set on fire,
 the wounds on her back ,
where wings had once carried
the burden of hope aphotic,
as the bleeding had ceased to flow.
 
                 Time has a way of turning fresh
                               lacerations to scar tissue.
 
She carried the weight with the
Grace she was promised;
Sewing  agony into
Bitter flesh.
Dulling  the ache with prayers
To her father,
Hoping a fallen tongue could
Reach the heavens.
 
He had promised her a sacred quest
..yet found her flawed
 
His eyes blackened with his own
shadows , his own burdens,
 impressed themselves on her a stain
...that tore the downy softness from
her.  She walked alone,
and in solitude found rings of fire
wherever her feet touched down
         ... and the charred smell of
                       something once hallowed
her own delicate feathers, scattered ..
those torn from the soft skin of her back
               corrupt with his sins...were set ablaze
 
And as the fire sought cleansing,
             She sought the remedy of a martyr.
Accepting the pyre lain upon her back as a gift,
          She found the resolution to become the
             renewal of the world that she was sent
                           To protect.
                              In the ashes of her span,
                                   Lies the fertile seed of a resurrection.
 
-Katherine Wyatt and James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved.

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