You are the phoenix.
like a phoenix rises from its ashes —
You will rise.
For at times death has to come, for life to be born.
From the burying screams and burdening cries I heard Maya Angelou as she asked, and I silently whispered her words, “Did you want to see me broken? Bowed heads and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, weakened by my soulful cries?”
The ashes were my soul burnt and charred,
my heart twisted in each aching memory,
till the tears touched my own ashes to water them to life.
My tears purified what was mine, with mine.
As the ashes blew with the whiff of the wind, they settled in the aching of all those hurting
and beckoned ‘renewal’.
The ashes that became my fall were (hurt and pain).
My wings withered and covered me,
trying to protect me against the inevitable.
But not until did my wings tear and the tears subside, did it occur to me-
that once the pain is gone there is nothing more left to do than.. (rise)
So rise like you’ve never risen before.
Teach your bare feet to crawl again.
from crawling you will find yourself chasing the wind as your hair befalls the lengths of what used to be your sorrow.
Liberty never looked more poised.
The onlooker is left in awe at the captivity of what a free woman looks like.
So let your wings open as boldly and wildly as to set a precedent,
of what a true forthcoming looks like.
a forthcoming of grace and power —
of unwavering flight.
A sight i assure you that you will not forget.
That you shall not forget,
for it is unforgettable.