Fallen, but not discarded.
Her value lies not in her
ability to contain
her chaos within set seams,
clutch remnants when brute tidal
waves beat against her dormers,
but in her audacity
to bloom down in the trenches.
When she saw the light,
something in her cells
got charged. Turned on.
Illuminated. And she
knows now that fragility
and brilliance hold hands
in dark places, a
collision course with
gloom that can eclipse
even her pain, obscure even
the Shadowlands. Her
smile says it all; I am
alive, I am conqueror,
I am free. Somewhere
in the darkness, a match
strikes against a flint
as black as pitch –
ignition.