There will come a day when you come out of this wilderness—
when the howling will mute itself into a faint whisper.
You will emerge, fur pelt on the ground
with skin singed and raw.
You will be human again.
You will be woman, even if not how you meant to be.
Your mother will forgive you
for being an ungrateful runt of a daughter.
Your father will see you as you are,
and still love you the same.
This will be a birth not worth celebrating,
this will be a death not worth mourning.
You will only live,
as you were meant to all these years.
There will come a day when the madness is old and exhausted,
it doesn’t have the thrash or bite like it used to.
It will go down easy,
even if its jaw loosely snaps in protest.
I can promise you, from the hearth of some faith I barely believe in:
you will not be damned and crazy forever.
This hell of having a mind that betrays you ends,
ends and you still have the possibility to live after.
You came into the world with a little death inside you,
a little reckoning of this empty darkness we all try to run from.
This is a gift wrapped in thorns,
this is a blessing baptized in blood.
This is a burden,
but it is not your legacy.
You will come out of this embattled,
but you will come out of this. Period.