How I Got My Wings -- 'Tweren't Pretty (5)

Sage of Rage


Festering
in branches high,
discerning corruptions
proprieties disguised,
she apart, yet never alone
brooded contempt
with blackened eyes
and sooted soul
when but a child of five
“People rarely look up”
so she’d learned to climb.

Hatchin’ haint
in shadow’s caul.
Billowing malice
In enmity’s thrall~
pubescent Realm Cracker
Darkness embraced.
Summoning Thunder
she Willed
and she laid waste.
Her mind her sharpened saber
her tongue
spat judgment’s call
lest someone dare assuage her
she’d learned to appall.

Advancing
by the light
of the bridges
she did burn,
in the company of voices,
she heard
yet would not to learn.
Something reprehensible
into her heart
had crept,
distilling tears to fire
in solitude she wept.
Those she loved
came to avoid her.
Thus, at last,
she learned regret.

In an instant
rare and tender,
a revelation kindled new
compassion’s charity
and forgiveness~
an insight that saw through
the visage of disappointment
and thus gave place
that love would grow.
Her tattered heart
thus shattered
and she learned at last to sow
what she willed
to one day gather
A Sage of Rage
transformed
doth Know.


Callaghan Grant 5/24/2013