Come here.
Give me your hands -
frost-bitten and trembling,
so tired of clawing
and fighting
just to breathe.

Let me warm them for you.

I will fill your heart
so sacred tears
may well up
and
clear your stinging
eyes.

Can you see now?

My wings are strong.

Every feather,
a gift
from the creator.

One feather for the way
I hold my head up,
proud.

One feather for the way
I bow my head,
in prayer.

I am the one
you tried to burn.

Did you know your actions
would illuminate me?

By the strength of my wings,
I rise.

Called home,
third eye sight.

Flying in power.
Resonating with peace.

I want to say this is
the resurrection
of an ancient love,

but love never died.