HAVING BEEN CAST, EVE IMPLORES

I want to know the fires your hands bring—
the fractured fates and deep-set furious lives,
the weaving of your heart lines, and how perched
upon the finest blade of language, the verses
you have breathed into your city of constant sirens.

 

I want to know the words to your prayer—
my earliest memory, a thirst for your bones.
Tell me what you know of redemption, dear one,
and blossoms of hope unfurling their first petals.
Tell me you awaken holding my name in your hands.

 

I want to know the scent of your promise—
an azure calm that rises and falls, your lungs
drawing air, whispering. Muse, Diwata,
I am your constant siren, your ocean lullaby.
Diwata, I am your midnight dragonfly song.