Thanks, Mike

I want to sing in flights of us–
not from this tuneless sob
you call instrument and I call broken flute;
not from this stave that stalls, half-crafted
you call talent and I call wasted;

I want to joy in you–
not sit and sift ashes
you call collateral damage and I call evidence
not to blame, but identify the bird bones
you call phoenix and I call birthless.

There is no arising for this us
you would name after legend.

About Susan L Daniels

I am a firm believer that politics are personal, that faith is expressed through action, and that life is something that must be loved and lived authentically--or why bother with any of it?
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10 Responses to phoenix

  1. ruleofstupid says:

    Yay, so our melting pot runneth!

  2. nelle says:

    There’s poignancy in this, and since you’ve given me the earworm…

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