It’s not rocket science, I tell myself, still present with my former self in the iterations of the supplication–old and unglamorous skills get unfolded like the swords beaten into plowshares.

Or the plowshares years later, back into

Swords where there might have been a daughter or two

You know I would have took that many and more

Or tried to sow or shape them from whatever you can make into a girl

Not dragons, not the teeth of dragons

But words stronger than all of my

Misgivings

Isaiah 55:11-12 KJV

[11] So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it. [12] For ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.