the edge of a knife

or is it a cliff

egregore sprouts from my hands

welcoming

a smooth shard of metal bursts from my chest

a needle

an initiation

I am threaded into the pages of a book

bound

my pain transcribed

waiting to be opened

the edge recedes

both falling and ascending

rejoining a memory

familial

I see those left behind

craning to watch me drift away

their sorrow a coronation

lay your flowers

sisters

I am home