Catalytic Convert

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.
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
Art: Spirit of Flight by Josephine Wall

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