Emergence

—after my drawing

Out of the black box—
a gaze,
a pulse:

the place from which I see.

Two suns breathe color
into a field of becoming.

The hallowed ground remembers joy.
The void shivers,
cracks light.

And from the fracture,

brightness spills forth—

From mystery:
fire.
From depth:
change.

At the edge of knowing,
I begin—
bare shimmer
trembling on the skin
of being.

—Lorena Wolfman (2019, 2025)