In that brilliant, breaking dawning the cripple stood
and walked, alone
Child of the Wind before and behind her
of the Fire and of the phoenix ~
of the witch and the falcon, flown
Child of the cauldron's acidic integrity
and of the novitiate's determined intent
Of grinding dissonance and of the gravid lust of
vengeance
Of the whisperings of the angelic host
and of the Child's own hellish descent
Marked by stars and marred by solitude
destined to soar the Wind that sings her maiden flight
alone
To shelter against the bloodied breast
of the wounded white dove
And to weave, of the dancer's shadow and the white mare's breath
the innocence of the novitiate's soul to the witch's heart
of the woman, grown
