I am still here

Because you are here too
as a map for a lost child searching
for his mother on Earth’s mouth.

Because I compose songs from things
marked as food for fire, as elements
too weak to survive the blacksmith’s furnace.

Because we agreed not to light out at once –
there are so many who’d look to us for rays
when darkness chokes their world.

Because I do not endure in silence.
I scream loud enough to quake grief
with songs whose lyrics only me understand.

Because I sing the name of my demons
aloud, to my moulder, to you, to friends.
And I sing of me as a bird of colourful feathers.