Gather, gather
All the scattered
Pieces of yourself;
Daughter, daughter,
Fight your battles
With the weapon of yourself;
Take the shrapnel
From your bossom;
Turn it into something else:
A poisoned wine-cup,
A deadly blossom;
Make war like what you are:
A work of art.

The falcon, too, was once earth-bound,
    And scared to leave the solid ground;
    (How curious, to be afraid,
    To use the wings that you were given;)
    But she joined hands with her own terror,
    And let it lead the path to heaven;
    (How glorious, to understand,
    To use the power of your demons.)

Dance; bathe your heart in sweat:
Make the hurricane jealous of your fervour;
Sing; summon gods with your breath:
Make the stars beg for your favour.

your eyes are the mirror
the sky looks into.

I think art
is picking yourself up
when you are falling apart

Be kind to your own mind:
When it wakes you in the middle of the night,
(Your thoughts afraid of their own shadows;)
Hold it like you hold a child:
Softly, yet with all your might,
(Turn its terror into a fable;)
Don’t ever be ashamed to love yourself.