Three queens showed up at my doorstep.

One wore ash as lipstick,

fire blooming from her mouth every time she spoke.

Another carried a golden vessel,

only she knew the ancient sea inside.

The last-

a permanent wind blowing through her hair.

They beckon me outside the door.

So I step forth,

lightning beginning to crackle in my fingers.

A cushion of air arrives beneath my feet.

I move as if through water.

I become a sky serpent,

the expanse my ocean,

the scales my armor.

Flames spreading invisible wild fires through

an old growth frequency.

My wings raining rebellious wisps of inspiration

upon an unsuspecting earth.

I look down.

The queens hands wave me to land.

My feet make fossils in the mud.

Vines hug my claws as if they have missed me,

as if they will root my magic into the descent.

It is here that we need you,

they all say.

I bow, bury my feet in the dirt.

Spread my wings to the sky.

My breath to the clouds.

Rooted and rising.