Irrevocable
the sound of something dying deep inside me;
a dark rhythm, insistent
pounding of silence
that reads
lasciate ogne speranza,
one language not enough
to assuage
the piece of me
that now lies quiet
on a crag of sunburnt earth
close to the divine.

What remains
rages, essence and flame
spiraled higher because
I still breathe,
hardly knowing how but
I dance
barefoot
over mirror-shards
of who I have been,
defy you
to define me,
pick out the parts of my
blood,
the promise and power I alone
hold
for as long as I restrain
my doubt, refrain
from turning my head and
tripping
over might-have-beens.