Bespoken

for so long I hungered for the light

afraid to cut

afraid to share

afraid to take up space

better, I thought, to be small, 

nestled,

safely alone

enshrouded in velvet folds

measure twice and cut once, they say, 

though for me it was many years of measuring before I dared to trust the tool.

many years of keeping my own counsel

and holding in silence

and then,

from next to me,

a nudge

a tap

a shoulder 

I am not alone

not unheard

or unseen

I breathe

and I speak

the first cut blinks 

the cloth open with a whisper of light, 

a sigh on scissor’s edge.

the second invites the afternoon sun, 

dappled and antique

an unwashed window

of sepia dust and glow

with the third I raise the Moon, 

gibbous and ripe

a reflection on the water

winking with a grin

and with the fourth I am free, 

no longer the finger that points

I am startled blue eyes

the witness

I breathe again and stretch

my willow-arms high

reaching and gathering 

I am large

branches fill with crisp night

scent of apples 

kiss of sultry breeze

wide-eyed stars unbind

within and without

and shrugging

I look down to see the 

fuligen velvet yards

festooned at my feet

I breathe and cut

once more

into the fabric of the firmament

blade ever more keen, 

ever more willing, 

measuring in the past

donning my cape 

bespoken from a shroud

and clasped at the neck

with a brooch of golden honeycomb

I follow the moon

ascending into the cut

all gravity forgotten

close quarters quitted

flying without motion

flying without fear