Weave Myself a Dress

The one whose shame is left too long
Is the one whose name is lost along the
Clear and shallow shore
A reflection in the water stays
The thing it grew upon is an ashen sail
No more
Turn straw to gold how can you hold
Onto the courage to own a name
To think of raising up out of these seas
The thing that I will raise up is a dress I weave myself
Of freshly plucked anemones
So collect the flowers
In the shallow water all along the shore
And take them away with you
The eye and a reflection of an eye
Is what that flower sees
A space we’ve learned here too
Turn straw to gold
What can you hold onto the courage to own a name
To think of raising up out of these seas
The thing that I will raise up is a dress I weave myself
Of freshly plucked anemones
And I’ll be in the water
See my hand come through the water
And their eyes do close up tight
And when they open again a sail is born