Veins draw blood
back to my heart,
my heart displaced,
never found a home.
I met you
when I was dead and cold.
A monster then,
animated by demons.
I dragged you down.
You,
an angel.
Oh, how I broke your wings.
I fed you blood and fire
until you were
as dead and cold as I was.
Never felt a thing.
Linked through our common suffering,
we travelled,
through trial and travail,
until one day
I heard a sound.
It might have been
a trumped call,
it might have been
nothing at all,
but it woke me,
or at least
woke something in me.
Eyes opened,
cracked and blackened.
Failed lungs drew breath.
Atrophied and desiccated body
rose
from a grave,
and the mind,
it found clear water.
Something new,
singular
and uncorrupted.
I looked up and there was a light
and from that light,
a path.
I shook you,
woke you,
showed you,
but you did not believe
that there was another way
to Heaven,
since I broke your wings.
I cried,
seeing all my hate in shadow,
and I turned from it,
and I picked you up.
On limbs
that had been wasted a lifetime,
I carried you
towards the light.
The path is narrow,
but we have moved along it.
You are awake now,
and stronger than before.
I see new feathers
on your wings
and you can move them again,
but it is still painful.
I feel more whole
and more alive,
but I don’t care.
All that is in my mind
is the path
and the purpose.
Everything else disappears
when I think of you.
Home.
Wings whole
and healed from all
that this world has done to you.
What I have done.
Onward,
we go.
Step by step.
HG – 2019
