To
Let Herself Free
by Mitzi Cross
I
met the phoenix inside her
I looked into her eyes under
the veil of the moon,
she had been burning herself for centuries.
Her
wings, crisp and charred
by her own secrets...owning
her blame, to let herself free
she had to forgive and she had to
remember that she was a carpenter
of the heart. Mother to the trees,
but she became lost in a
musty forest, smothering herself
with her own hands, with her own
guilt, to find that breath inside
her heart that blew like
lavender chrysanthemums,
she wanted to crush them in
her hands and keep their
fragrance inside, all for herself.
She kept her lover's
shirts under her pillow
for months
to remember their scent,
their taste.