Succor the Night. . .
This she-man, this daughter of a brother
whom I loved and now with whom I speak
was asking. . .
”do you walk the fields at night auntie,
because I am walking with your essence.
You are the essence of who walks,’
she says, ‘succoring the night with me,
succoring the night.’
And I know I am lost to the night,
to the fields of my youth,
giving me back to who I am.
I was lost for so long
believing I was a nothing for so long.
I folded my wings then,
thinking they were broken
never to fly again but no,
unfolded I began to flutter kick,
giving them strength to soar.
Soon they will give the span needed,
wing tip to wing tip,
to lift the heart of me home,
with knowledge given the all I had
back to the All in All.
Weave through the air softly, weave gently,
allow the wind to lift my Spirit.
imprinted on my heart.