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	i have lived several lives:
	one where i hid from my own mother
	one where i pined for someone who never existed
	one where i shone and strived and forged my own destiny
	one where i sank deeper and deeper
	into fear and despair and hopelessness
	and one where i was wrapped in shining blankets
	until i was smooth and sweet
	like a pearl in an oyster.

	but it can't be denied i have quills inside:
	today i am in a foreign land,
	mountains rising like blades
	pressing against the soft flesh of the sky
	ravens rustling their oily wings and
	hooking the small moon in their crooked beaks
	while the earth begins to
	turn away from the light.

	we have no secrets, but no songs, either.
	what matters now is what happens next
	but even when you're writing about the future
	you're still writing about the past.
	the soul wakes when it sees stories
	beyond the shadows of agendas
	and responsible futures
	i want a beautiful balance of
	structure and surrender
	i will find the story that is
	mine amongst all the others
	i am here to be heard



august 04, 2006
edmonton, canada