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Nov 2011
At the dawn,
The sun sheds her cloak of moon, cloud and starry black skies
And stands naked, bright and shining,
Filled with yellows, and orange, and brilliance.  
And all I can do is wish to be as lovely as she.

Such radiance! Like the Phoenix rising;
Arms turned into wings the color of glowing embers
Stretched as wide and far as the rays of the sun herself,
Bursting with passion and gold and blazing,
Too small and too wonderful to contain it all.

But we don’t believe in blinding flames anymore.
How can we dream of such light?
Wings clipped, the color of ash, bound to earth
Through chains whose links are made of things too solid to break,
Things like gravity and pasts that hurt us to remember.

Women much like any other woman;
Like my mother, my friends, myself;
Women whose light has been diminished,
Who wear cloaks of bruises and broken promises now.
Filled with fear and rage and destruction.

Sweet sisters,
Trapped in cages not of their own making.
Bodies banging and thrashing against bars
Spasming in pain and silence
Too shamed and confused to sing

No melodies are heard here,
But look how pretty the silent bird is.
Muffled by gilded cages
Constructed from hardest of materials
Things we were made to believe.

This is the darkest of places
Closed curtains block out the sun.
No moon or stars to wrap us in fitful slumber.
There is no dreaming in this gloom.

“Sing for us!” they say, “croon for us something sweet,
“Let your voice choke past your rage and sorrow
“Flit amongst golden bars, sing and dance,
“Become our vision; ****, slave and nurturer
“For the cage is large and the sun cannot reach you here
“Let our praise warm you and our approval be your stars
“We will keep you safe.”

But birds such as we;
Like my mother, my friends, myself
We were not made for cages, gilded as they may be.
Our wings and hearts and love cannot be contained
Even by things of the most hurtful construction.

Lift up your wings and soar once again.
Rising like the Phoenix
Filled with rage and destruction and new promise,
From tombs of ash and tears to take flight.
Breaking through golden bars created by those who envied our passion.
We fly like no others.


At dawn
The sun and I will rise again
Shedding the pasts and hurts of yesterday
Like cloaks of moon and cloud and stars .
For I am simply me: a phoenix, daughter of the sun, naked, bright and shining
Join us.
Vanessa Nichols
Written by
Vanessa Nichols  Bronx, NY
(Bronx, NY)   
1.7k
 
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