They keep telling me how I should step into the white light,
How I should chase it with even whiter noise and whiter lies.
I hide between juniper branches during the darkest nights,
Using poisonous berries and figs as my only disguise.
They creep up my legs but cannot take the violent screeches.
My back grows horns as soon as they whimper and cry.
I have been shooed away by seven dishonored preachers,
Saying wicked creatures like me should not even try.
But I learned to see the light in people’s actions years ago.
My pride swallows itself again when I fail to see my own.
They keep telling me that I could out-spin pure vertigo.
I grin and quietly whisper:
“This is my last plea before I drown.”
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 