so sweet, the cinnamon sweep.
I have been to visit l'apothecaire.
J'ai eu la vision.

Je sais que l'empoisonneur.

the long ago girl sits in the alabaster tower,
one small wooden table,
one simple chair.
Sitting in a swirling, silent world;
eyes fixated high above her head,
watching the robin nest window.

so cold, the medica breeze,
I have been to visit l'apothecaire.
I have had a vision.

I have seen the garroter.

the one who loved me most, lingers in
the soft darkness of night.  black hair blowing,
she is surrounded by white moon flowers.  
she is soft glow in the middle of the freeze,
she goes down the path before me.
she disappears before I learn how to see.

the butterfly road is mine to take,
it is a bitter medicine, it is the milkweed drink.

I have seen the town below the mountain.
it is a chaos of blood and bone,
I am no sister of Ado, I will not look back.

the water has been devoured by flame.
justice is doled out in due time, but
I am not the one who holds the scales.
that is not how I am made.

I was made to drink the medicine.
I was made to change the tide.
I am born of the monarch and
kissed by the lightening strike.

I am the weaver of dream,
sewing airy aspirations into the
fabric of reality, I breathe
on hope, soft ~ soft.

then tie it quietly into carbon time.