She froze rock-hard to grow a spine,
A spur-spun steel stiletto –
The point is, she’d been out of line,
Her heart the merest echo.
Assumption said she’d never do,
The lies were knives she swallowed –
But once she changed her point of view,
A rugged backbone followed.
She raises weary hands high,
knowing that if she aims for
heaven, she just might touch God.
.
Tendons stretch beyond breaking
point, in the places where pain
collides with grace; she feels buds
.
Tear and in the ripping, birth
laughs at the Fall, defies this
gravitational downward
.
Spiral, dictatorial
dead-weight. Thirsty soul seeks sun
and in the breaking place, blooms.
Meanwhile, Melody Muses... 