Lazarus III
A poem
Glass ceiling cracking under a canopy of vultures
Holds on in stubborn fidelity —
Against winds of change and the calling of the light,
The sky is done crying so my eyes must now begin,
To slowly undo this pent up rage —
And the vices that have made the ground of this heart unhallowed
It’s back again to where I wallowed,
Poking at the box of insanities I swallowed;
I swing at the vultures in unadulterated hate
Picking off the claws of the past in fear of reliving the birth of a monster,
The call of the past is only getting louder —
But they found me in the present, rooted firm like a boulder,
Choosing to cast away the chip on my shoulder
For a chance at metamorphosis, for a chance to find my wings…
I hear the vultures recede in murmur and panic,
My bold spirit shall know no fear when the light has taken root.
