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Language:
English
Collections:
Poetry
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Published:
2025-05-09
Words:
343
Chapters:
1/1
Kudos:
1
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1

The dawn that will name me

Summary:

If I do not pay it some recognition, its fires will lay me to waste. Although I love the warmth of its embers, I was born to be more than simple ash.

Work Text:


How I envy the summer rain,
for it falls in the shortest bursts.

 

The woman with winter hair
and autumn eyes,
here but for a moment,
only the moon 
could hold her to place.

Her restless shadow
in the midnight hour 
waved through winding roads,
a quiet ghost
thunder in her chest.

They swore they saw her
in the fast lane - 
a one-track mind,
all boarding pass,
no patience 
for stationed limbs.

She went in search 
of Eden,
and how the sanctuary 
broke open her sights
once foreshadowed.
She did not find ruin,
but the map back to herself.
She became
more midnight lights
than musing,
piecing the places
she believed 
would once
fracture her.


The indigo hours
wrap her like a coat,
she welcomed its chill,
a soul free 
untethered,
more whole among strangers
than bloodlines.

They swore they saw her
dancing to a jukebox 
off route 66,
more wild and western
than the city allowed.

The stars 
punctuated her travels,
bright ellipses
where her boots 
scuffed the terrain,
daring it 
to shake her peace.
To stir in her now,
the wick that once 
stung her edges,
beckoning it
to lap her fibres.

She had lost herself in the city,
but kicked the engine into gear,
now she travels
forever to wander,
starlight in her hair,
never again to wonder 
the callings of her purpose.

The hush of the 
constellations
brought closer 
her becoming. 
They did not ask,
but observe her 
with grace.

The moon did not name her,
nor the stars define,
quietly, they burned
as she bloomed
beneath them,
a little less afraid.

Her motions
were comet-like,
through the pitch 
of night,
a spark glimmering,
returning
to its origins.

The city dimmed 
behind her,
more hollow than before.
Her eyes affixed 
on the field of sky,
opening its expanses 
to her.

The girl who had once
folded too small
to fit the world's frame,
rose.
Stardust lined
every direction,
the echoes of yesterday
at her back.

Somewhere 
on the soft horizon,
was a dawn bright enough
to name her, whole.