I didn’t know it was in me,
this fluidity of spirit that,
when chafed with suffering, rose,
a genie in a lamp,
offering the sample of three wishes:
to be known,
Come with me.
Live in the teeming understanding of self
tormented with perpetuity,
silver chords of unity defying
definitions swallowed by fledglings.
Resurrect the energy of living barbarically
when stabbed by the epiphanies of pain.
Force our symphony,
amalgamated swoop from the tree
wiped away in exchange for these wishes,
vibrating in our breasts
having lost their rest when polished
by a savage magic.
by nancy jewell 2005