To My Best Friend, On The Day of Her Death

I wore daggers on my knuckles
and hate in my hair,
and my heart was dark
and full of venom and teeth
that gnashed on rage.
But you, the walker in my dreams
the burning bush in my heart,
you told me once that my heart
was golden and my soul could shine
brighter than any star in your sky,
and I knew then that you had been blessed
with not only a first and a second,
but a third sight as well.
One to see the love in the unloved
and another to catch your reflection
in the eyes of the first,
and the third that could always see
the forest for the trees,
even though you never learned
how to read a compass,
and if you happened to find yourself lost
on the side mountain,
you should only ever climb up
to look for a way back down…