Emptied out of echoes.
Let my inner furnace burn.
Serpents of air in the branches;
stag leaping in the torchflame.
See with new eyes.
Breathe with new lungs.
Feel with new heart.
What if I choose to break for good?
The secret of fire, the sorrow of rain.
The way the light shreds in the west at dusk.
Black mare, red mare,
carry me through the battles,
bear me through my struggles;
under me, your strength
bears up my strength.
Teach me to be stronger still.
I feel your heart pounding beneath me;
it leaps, it runs,
and it carries me onward —
not to safety,
but to the next challenge.
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My grandmother’s house was yellow.
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Every wound a lesson;
we learn from what we endure.
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My soul is a song sung in service to You;
my heart is a prayer of praise just for You.
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Sometimes, fate.
All Their Voices 