She cups the light,
She is a bowl for its shine.
She smiles at her reflections
and wonders what blinds them to herSelf.
She trips often over her other selves
and invites them home.
All of us run.
and some into her wild embrace.
She is warm and compassionate
and can seem cold and souless.
She will rip your heart out
and make you look at every scar there.
She will tear open every wound
and dip salt coated fingers into each one
to make you scream out your pain
until you see meaning in the suffering.
She carries the healing balm
in her gnarled hands.
Old, old womans hands.
She demands you earn the answers
and makes the price high.
Their value is pure gold.
You will love her for her fierceness
with the fierceness of the love in you.
She wants blood.
She calls for your death.
I myself am learning to die for her.
She whispers to you too, calling.
Can you hear? Will you answer?