Alexandra KostoulasI came from the hard work
that almost killed us but didn’t and grit and soil forged in the fire I emerged naked and dripping all gilt and filigree and gold My spirit hammered out by burning irons my flesh made smooth by hot coals, My essence channeled into the finest steel thrust past heartbreaks the aching the disasters the scattered bones of friendships their petty jealousies fall behind me in a comet’s tail I step forward with a bridal train like my mother, my grandmother, my great-grandmother each one a healer, a migrant, a magician I follow in their footsteps a silver shoe pressing into the moonlight I forgive the past And I kiss my own hand Full, sentient, awake Alive—how lucky to be—alive. |
