I Don't Know my Name

The old gods sleep

in wait for that beckoning light,

the dawn of another time long gone.

The new gods,

they are awake.

Screaming,

they rage.

First daughter.

First burden.

First to want to rip the skin from her face,

replace those faults with golden truth.

I have my father's wide eyes

and his white hot rage.

I have my mother's tongue 

and her bitter sweet smile.

I can wait in the cold

with only the fire in my blood

and the hate in my eyes

forever feeding my on my own distrust.

My father calls my name,

his regret a halo.

My mother calls me angel,

her hand reaches out

slipping just short of my grasp.

I wouldn't know my own name

if God herself told me.