Magissa

she walks columned lands
listening to the brittle fingers
of her friends snap and break
under the weight of her feet

the cold touches not her skin
as it has already embraced
the faint beating of her heart

her hair is a continuous current
with the bitter breezes of night
when she lifts from the earth
to soar through the dark air

the cold touches not her face
as it has already taken hold of
the faint memories of her mind

they come to her for help
when their prayers are empty
they bar her with iron chains
when their guilt is thirsty

the flame touches not her bones
as she is a stream in the woods
the tears from an infant's eye



- for Dixie