In search for the unknown she continues onward,
Using the lilac flame to light the way deeper into her hurts.
The voices remind her of the truths of knives pressed against her side.
She screams at the sky. “Mother always lies,” she cries, kneeling in the meadow under petals of her soul’s earth supporting her even when she is terrified to stand.
True sight comes from finding a way back home even when there seems to be only hopelessness ahead.
She closes her eyes and breathes in the constellations of old, reading the stories weaved from threads of past light lingering behind.
They’ll lead her to what she seeks.
They have to . . .
She stitches her ribs with roses and sunbeams.
She stands in courage.
Her lilac flame grows warmer.
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