poems in the labyrinth after summer solstice


It is no weakness
to be wounded
in battle for your life
outmatched, outnumbered
to be captured by the enemy and held
to bind wounds and wait for strength
to escape into adulthood.
It is only warriors truth.
It is only strength and honour to heal.
A warrior has scars because of this
and she is whole of her own making.


I am vulnerable enough
she says
resting in the arms of miraculous love,
to lay my weight
in the net bridge
so high
of trust.
(the web of people whose love makes this love possible)
Feet dancing of their own thought
blissful breathing
enjoying the view