Creature Speak – The Language of Creaturehood

I.
 We are limited in our vision 
 of what is 
 because of the hope 
 of what could be.  
 
 We are fantastic dreamers, 
 painting others in that likeness 
 with expert skill, 
 only to find ourselves 
 with messy hands 
 and soiled clothes 
 when the violence of life 
 wears away at the paint.
 
 You were a gargoyle
 I busted out of the stone
 So you could fly again
 Remembering your 
 Angelic origins.

 I pulled out your grey
 To give you back 
 Your burnt oranges
 And aquatic blues
 And stone
 Would become flesh.

II.
 A painful birth 
 Can make an enemy 
 Of the midwife.
 Passion sacrificed
 On the altar of healing
 Makes room for growth
 With an offering of blood.
 
 I was a warrior 
 Who forgot
 I used to dance.
 I lay down the plight
 For my own kind of flight.

Copyright © 2021, Sheyorah Naify