i will not cut my hair for you,
it will hang long and heavy and
whisper of long-lost battles in the
dead of night, with the stars to
witness me alone, the same stars
that bend to me and shine for me
and my nails will be longer and
sharper than claws

(i can claw your heart out and taste blood,
how good will it feel then?)

my feet will learn to trace new
circles on the ground, that lead to
wonders far greater than the temple of you
and things of far greater beauty -
tight-rooted trees and snow
crystals that sting and comfort and
paved roads that lead to eternity -

i will learn to love things of 
substance, and fortify my skin,
skin that does not even recall your
breathing or the length of your
eyelashes or the way the trees grew
silent when you walked past

(this is my war hymnal and it is
a song of victory)


“war hymnal”, for astrid, merry christmas!