Steaming, pale pink, moments ago
these rosebuds were sleeping, dried, unfragrant.

Now, like a single paper flower that blossoms from within
its scrubbed clam shell, held together lightly, then opening slowly
in its requisite, tall, crystalline glass of water,
these tiny buds are softening, unfurling, reviving,
intoxicating me with this heady, womanly scent, and
moistening my face as I lean over this healing brew you sent for me.

Born of humans, linked to me by human blood and a shared, ancient selkie ancestry,
wise, beautiful, deep eyes, flowing dark hair, blessings pour forth from you
in all, and every moment, of your gentle, earnest, worshiping life.

Kinswoman to my open heart,
to our ceaseless inquiries into sacred mysteries,
your power to transform finds me
wherever I am.

panicked apologies spilled from my mouth that night.
and now they echo like a chorus in my mind
as if i never left that night behind.

“please, no”
“you don’t have to do this”
“i didn’t mean to make you angry”
“i’m so sorry”

i’m
s o r r y.

my words weren’t enough that night.

i felt the life draining from within me right before my eyes,
desperately trying to save whatever light there was left in me,
but i died.

i
d i e d.

the world around me turned dark
and soon blood started spilling from my veins
instead of flowing through my heart.

if i wasn’t enough to save myself that night,
will i ever be enough to pull myself back up towards the light?