I have been forged in fire.
While they were signing papers
fraudulently, counting
coins, I perfected art of

Poetry for justice
that has failed me in every
other way. Instead of living
under the influence of

Substances, unholy
alliances and glass-eyed
piranhas proferring power
and calling themselves elite—

Instead of this I turned
to work of life refinement,
listening to the Teacher.
When so-called friends, family

Tried to kill, poison me,
I practiced patience, softly
harnessing power within
to gently transmute again.

I carried hope and wrote
all my wishes for wonder
shared, praying they really cared
and I just could not see it,

Praying all my heart spoke
of snake pits all around me
were just imaginary, 
figments of fancy and false.

But sword of truth survived.
I stand alone, surrounded,
on all sides but finding grace
in the skies I look up to—

For there are no mountains;
I can no more help children
caught up in their treachery.
And so I write. So I speak.

Presumed naivete
aside, I will abide in
true vine, call all others now
to return to simple faith,
  
To carry hope, to love,
to embrace healing and growth,
to cultivate passions pure,
to see beauty everywhere.

Purified by fire,
might we emerge from this time
cleansed, with appreciation
for this poetic justice?