Chosen

Out of every throat in this stone house —

the pretty ones, the trained ones,

the ones who'd give a kingdom

for one word of what I'm giving —

I walked the walls a hundred nights

and listened through the plaster,

and out of all that hunger,

I chose yours.

You are chosen. Feel it land —

heavier than any hand,

brighter than the footlights.

Say it back. Say it slowly.

Chosen. It will fit you like a crown.

I will unmake every flaw they taught you.

I will build your breath from stone up.

When you open your mouth in my house,

centuries will lean in.

Ask me for nothing. I've decided

everything already, in your favor.

Ah—

There. Even your wonder is in tune.

You are chosen. Wear it now —

warmer than a mother's coat,

older than the gold leaf.

Say it back. Say it proudly.

Chosen. It will fit you like a name.

They will tell you to be careful.

The unchosen always do.

Careful is the small door.

I am opening the large one.

You are chosen. Feel it land.

Say it back. Say it softly.

Chosen — like a crown, like a name,

like the finest thing I own —

and what is chosen... is kept.