a reclamation is needed
of the edifice, artifice
constructed, oh these many years

I tear it down and discard the rubble
I put on new clothes, new skin
burning all into ash in the solstice pyre

reclaiming from the rising sparks,
that which was always mine
the light, shining spirit, scrubbed down
sanded smooth after years of accumulation

here, I shout, here is the heart of joy
here is the barefoot soul ready to dance
here is all that I have always been
now reclaimed, now renewed