soft dreams settle on me
through the scent of a warm
winter flame,
by its glow, a slow turn
of dark to light.
can my whisp’ring imagination
fight the cold around?
can past and future find
a foothold here unbound?
soft chords arouse a sleeping
ghost within me
who once refused to be a
shadow
but has now rested far too
long.
let her be strong amidst
the concrete walls and oily water,
drift above like light’s
own daughter,
give a gift to self, to sons
of man,
one quiet, fierce, and unafraid.