When the wolves come,
    don’t blink,
    don’t move,
    don’t fear—
they will howl at the door,
nightmares of bones
    and snarl,
but they are just men
in clever clothing, softly
    self-righteous,
fragile in the way
of water, always seeking
mouths for drowning—
    do not offer yours.

When the battle begins,
    breathe,
    do not set yourself
      aflame,
    do not fall upon your sword,
    do not let your courage
      fade—
square your shoulders,
remember, you are not alone,
    and you have fury
      as well as faith—
    do not cower.

When the singing of sirens starts,
    hold the note
      they offer,
    be the myth
      and the rock
    and the lighthouse
    without apology,
tell the story
      your way—
    do not hold back.

There is no villain
    no hero, no woman
holding a sword in a lake—
    but the magick holds,
The Magician, The High Priestess
    a reminder
to set the spell down
    word after word,
    to be a warning
to all those who might forget
    your power,
    to summon hope
even in the gathered dark,
even in the storm-sway—
    conjure the truth into being,
    set it in stone
      and let it blaze,
    you know who you are,
      darling,

do not look away.

 
 
 
[Editor’s Note: Publication of this poem was made possible by a gift on behalf of Carlos Hernandez during our annual Kickstarter.]