I will not close     I will not let
                            so much as one petal curl
                                                as long as this light can reach me.

So long as the clear
                              rain falls
still I soak up
                the song of the world.

What does it mean
to own     each
day of desolation?

It means letting the soft words
                              of a hundred birds fly into you
                                                             arrows finding flesh
still letting the one sun
                                  make you
                    and in these times of burning
find your fire.

It means letting the new leaves
                                              of each other
                                                            find an opening in you
though your ribs sing in the wind
                           and your heart clangs without its cage
bright red     like any target.

Though at times you are thin and waning
            pushing through each new day’s gravity

           hold                    wait                    expand

                       put out your best blooms
                                                               send your colours into the darkness
                                                         do not pull back
                                                                                  your life’s 
                                                                                  raw nerve.

Renee Pettitt-Schipp reads 'Shoot'