Breaking Point

Alone

Hope

This night will end. With the sky unleashed dank, pendulous with disbelief. And

the clash of distant voices redoubles the clamor

in my head. And

the walls of my bedroom bend, bow and quake. And

the courthouse columns drip with spray paint. And

the world-wished-for tumbles out of view. And

a starling lost cries for its roost. When

all is torn open that was wholesome and seemed good,

Mama bird's fled the nest, babies' beaks left agape.

My fear wears a cloak. Rage, its masquerade.

Gnashing of my bones, skull, teeth,

every ligament threatens to tear away, as magma ravages my veins,

unguided and rapacious.

And I burn.

Cinders hover like an eclipse of moths, wings

singed and at tips fraying.

With all of me unknown to me, I’m at the edge of end

and begin~

Then from some unclaimed forest of my mind, I see a woman stride.

She carries earnest fire in her hands cupped like an ancient crucible.

She pours the flames between her palms, from lips she lets these slide:

“Pain is just an entry point, the other side is Grace. Rage

‘til you metamorphosize. Arrows sharp

illume your Way.”

As she walked away, I sought her name.

“Courage,” she whispered and dissolved into trees.