The Dragon Beside Me

Draped in blanched weathered skin, she stands beside me still, the fury of her wrath when coming to my defence was like no sandstorm, no wildfire, no unanointed castration one could foresee; all because of me. Her small frame was a disguise for fools, her wingspan, pulsing with old blood swooped down and tore out the heartless ignorance of fools who dared to brand me different, odd, peculiar...all the words that dig into one's spirit, teasing, daunting, bare. My mother, my dragon, who defied all notions propelled by the green eyed monsters that tried to steal who I was, who I would be, who I am now, spared nothing for herself; her blaze was entwined with mine. Blanketed by her privileges, I passed through walls, cemented rules unbeknownst to me; I was hers despite my brown, curious eyes, my lack of tough skin, I hung onto what she bled. She could be like the cool breeze that quells the night after a scorching summer's day just as easy as she could slap her spiked tail and frighten anyone who dared to try and break my dreams. Time passes, I am no longer under her pale, veiled skin. I stand alone, my scars permanent on my earth toned face. I am not safe all the time and I know it. Yet she fought for me to fly. Despite the stares and repeated rejection I feel invincible, well, most of the time. I can not see her, no one can when I am crossing the divided bridge, making my way home, always hoping for no trouble. I don't know if I should feel this way, yet sometimes I wish her white skinned cape never was hidden for it has left me in a world where no one can ever know the dragon that stood beside me, who rescued me more than once. My wings do not dare to disrupt or make controversy. I want to soar; to not carry the heaviness of this life on my back. Yet, I am understanding, in both an angry and consenting place within me, that I must strive to not only live, but to love on this worn down mountain, to not whisper but learn to roar. I lift my wings and seek the rainbow where I am free. Free to be all the colours that make me, ME. Drench me in violet, sultry bruising blues, flaunt me, drink me, spill me like red wine, let me break through the cape where I was shadowed, parting with wings which sheltered me. I want to fly on my own, her love is mine to feel. Solo I swirl back to a place where I am at her breast, her thunderous heart against my cheek, we clung to symbiotic sighs, never did it cross my mind that one day she'd be on her eternal voyage while my knees shook, my own thoughts burst forward, my being would feel as ripped flesh when parted by sudden falls onto unseen glass carefully laid out, in my own path. Never did I consider I would dance alone, sing again, make it through the day, the night, the week, the next month, the anymore of ever without her. Standing on the edge of my new frontier I grieve in choked up swallows, my throat is tight, and I almost retreat. I remember her bending down with her assuring gaze, I perch, I take a deep breath and plunge into my own being; I have never been so proud, so hopeful and alone. She would say higher, higher, higher! I will be alright, I think. Mother? Watch this! I do a back bend, I hang upside down from high beams like a hungry little bat. Go baby. I am always here, I promise I will always see you. I'm living, I'm doing it! The smell of her encapsulates me and the audience applauds. She was beside me all along.