clawing my own prima-promise
a crown made of me
by me
for me
but when I lift my leg into the air
praying
pointing to your god and above
you push me past my back
as if my surge of ambition is a
blasphemous aberration on stage
when a swan’s dance is nothing but normal.
taking issue with my shoes
too dark for any true swan
and I am
tainting
the sun bleached feathered flaunt fawns like her do
oh
so well.
my poise
only an illusion
to you
keeping the curse you hold dear
true
till the beginning of my time
so I embrace my wild wings
and soar
into heights I know will be passed
by the sisters whom I hand
our blessing
and let my raven body sweep your floors
forever being your customary
even far to the core
and your forest will know
black was never evil
for it was naturally your beginning
and in our end
everyone will have to find comfort in the dark.