“I see smoke each time I look in the mirror

Perhaps this is God’s way of keeping me safe

He knows I’m tired of seeing dead birds in rusting cages.

Last night, I called the wind and asked

How she taught the dove to fly

‘the sky is a map if you know how to look’

She said.

And I looked at my skin,

marked the places I cannot love.

There are mountains in spots I want rivers to flow

Scriptures buried on the ground where trees grow

I guess my skin is a map,

There are stars hanging and the moon is painting constellations

Someday, I’ll find my way through.”