I wonder if I once died 
a martyr under the trees,
tied alive like a witch, 
stabbed, or left to ash, 
was I brave and did I wait
until my fear fell 
under the rule of my soul, 
transformed into its truest essence? 
If it’s all true, then the past 
behind the sliding doors 
would have me born again… 
when did I grow a coward’s heart? 

By Heidi Turner