where the incomplete blow
as storm winds
With worn boots and ragged clothes
after years in the woods
a brightness comes.
What had been too frozen to speak,
let alone move,
imprisoned by experiences of youth,
is warming with daily lighting of the flame.
Who had been silenced
who had been harmed
who survived by freezing in time
and not breathing to avoid giving herself away
is no more a fossil
a repetition of a story too old to tell.
With spark, a light in thick darkness,
a new way forward.
Without knowing, or plan, or shape
entry into another world–
at the Crossroads.