Will-ing

Empathic ability is a gift

I no longer fear having it

I no longer fear losing it

I remain wholly here for awhile longer

for reasons I yet complete

Benefit, reason, is for Him to weave

being, trust, my part discovering

yesterday, not restful

today is better

recalling these truths, already settled

Much to learn, plenty of time

construct to play with

misaligned pain does not define me

we’re a multi-knotted tapestry

warps and frays belong

Ikat, Afghani, nomadic, ancient, present

connect the dots, something twangs true

Kelp, seagrass, fronds, currents wayfinder

present in cellular watery tomes

Indigenous of any color interlaces through

Forgotten legacies

poignant still

lies seem louder

but here my mouthpiece

refuses homage demanded

Another set of eye-clouded orphans

before me awoken, resurrected, disoriented

fabric matrix snapping, straining

although not stranded

my purpose placed here timely

One of many, I trust this now

never again I fear the backslide

toward that hellhole

willingly my hand

reaches back, for them, anyone

paying forward miracles wrought for me

Together, we are woven

Together, we twist and curl

into patterns of foreseen distinctness

reflecting in this era, on the cusp

our language confessing

Of power to heal, to testify

unreliant on approval

offering kind ears and prayers liberally

relentless, set as flint, sparks inevitable

milestones enshrined within gratitude

Nations I’ve birthed, will reign

their rightful curse-breaking stead

red Theatre velvet ropes corralling the lines

awaiting the porters, stepping up, then reassigned

each misstep has value, take note neighbor mine

No one left behind, their choices do not dictate mine

wayward I’m judged by those not the jury

prayed for, my mantle, Hur-im and Aaroni

as escort I witness these Grand Theatre seats filling

willingly, purposely, aha’s settle into savory vibes

~Written by Dominique Wingerd 8.31.2023