What Light Summons

In the rarefied air after sickness
every poison distinct harsh thickness
so be wary, grounded and aligned
as I show up, canary in the mine.

Bluebirds keep returning to their birthbox
invading house sparrow dives in and mocks.
I wonder why they stay, locked ancestral
patterns simple imperatives:  nests will

be best here.  Back in my family home
where every slipshod deviation poem
inspires, the castigation is severe,
the burning wrath of generations sear

yet I must step into the flames.  My way
is through.  A life anonymous won’t do.
When standing in the light, be sure the dark
is summoned.  All the open wounds will mark

the entry I create.  And though the hate,
the bitterness, the ire surrounds me, fire
channeled from all the unsettled places
bursts into now, still I open love’s spaces.

Inspired by: Anonymous, Burn, Simple and Slipshod.

Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

7 thoughts on “What Light Summons”

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