Thieves’ Refuge

In times before I took the

dagger from my side

cut my bindings

before I wiped the blood from m’eyes

brandishing my strength at those

who bound me…

In moments of utter frailty—

fucked up, sucked up

strung out at your feet

holding only to the thread unravelling

of your clothing—

I took refuge in your beggars’ bowl

knowing you would always feed me.

In times before when I

seduced my own death

sedimented myself to the wet breath

of life’s only true King.

When I became a stalactite

like an eye tooth above the throned cave—

bashed in, smashed in, broken brained

…in the palm of your hand

crying and curling up, holding only

your little finger—

I took refuge in your Majesty’s gaze

knowing you would always see me

Before I shook myself out of

the clutches of hate

When I was the mistress of death

and, for others, death’s bait

when my body was a tool—

smashing pearls and

throwing open gates

although bearing the world’s weight

I broke my demons’ chain

holding only to a knot in your net

with my broken hook of faith—

I took refuge in your grace

knowing I always came from you

only sometimes am I me.

By La’akea Sky Smith | January 18, 2012