Have I been hiding
behind these pretty words?
I'm making marks on this page
which means I'm alive.
Perhaps not the way I'd imagined
but now and here,
as real as the rain,
as cold as tiny arrows
on my scalp,
my upturned palms.
Why have I resisted this,
yet keep coming back to
this same place
over and over,
humbled by the task at hand,
Manawee returning.
I surrender,
yet stand before you,
perfectly ready.
Warrior:
bloody and still
whole