Trapped in corners of a desert night,
she feels a message on the wind
- whispers of a sinless boy
come to free her of her sins;
already she longed to flee the bones
of an endless, guarded life,
and would have settled for much less than
an angel’s shaking cry.
The journey begins, and the silent nomad
isn’t guided by a star;
but the wind weaves starlight through her hair,
whispering her name from afar.
Alone and unknown as a grain of sand,
She prods her flinty, pebble heart;
but liquid there dried up long ago -
she leaves a trail of ruby shards.
All she sees is infinite golden sand
against black-hearted desert plains;
forever pulled at the bleeding ankle
by manacles and callous fellow slaves.
All that blazes, and will ever blaze
is her fury and her pain –
she was one of the brightest ones,
but she couldn't brighten the Unnamed.
She goes to quench this terrible thirst -
to hear swaddling cloth tell her she wasn’t a mistake.
and He will hoist his star in the sky,
shedding light on her haggard face.
But buffeted in the dark by nicotine storms,
walking naked ‘cross needles and dust -
on the journey to that fabled stable,
she is utterly lost.
