I’ve been catholic guilty,
Two generations removed;
A witchblood mutt,
Neither gravel nor grovelbred.
Godwilling, I’ll be a reign of rain,
A devil dancing, horned and grinning before this.
ii.
Whereas, I’ve been a bloodquilt,
Patchworked of flawed lineages,
I must proceed.
Veinburdened, I must return to that place,
Holyheaded and mantramouthed,
“I have come to collect myself.”
iii.
A beast of clay and labor,
I’ve been as a golem;
A vessel for the sins of the father,
The mother’s altarpieces.
But i can plunge firehands into damp earth and pull life from the land.
I must be something of woodspells and orchid sensibility,
A swordplanter, a worldbuilder, a jester to my own court.