Epiphany

Epiphany
 
I want relief,
want to love myself
the way I love my daughter,
serve dutifully,
imagine perfection
in the light
of my crescent shaped face
whilst sleeping,
to soften every doubt,
snatch courageously
every opportunity,
to grow  
as a respected,
strikingly powerful,
vulnerable female,
to have known tenderness
as a thunder drum
beating in a choir cavity
cascading through ribs as violins,
weighing down in heels,
the vibrating keys.
I want the love I show myself,
to come as a mist,
to flicker,  
to choose me,
every hour
of every day
as the thing she adores most,
sacred.  
I want to move myself
frequently to tears
with the depth of knowing
such ceaseless care.  
I want to owe nothing
and go where she wills it
everyday,
redesign everyday
in the delight of her existence.