Thistle in the Rain

A Song for my Story "You don't know the Devil" on Archive of Our Own. Lyrics: There is a morning on the hills, soft as gold and grey as rain. I used to hide from open skies, now I let them speak my name. There is heather in the silence, there are roots beneath the stone. Something stubborn keeps on growing where I thought nothing could grow. I don’t have to be the thunder, I don’t have to be the blade. I can be the breath between them, I can be the calm that stayed. And I feel the light get in, through the cracks beneath my skin. Not enough to make me whole, but enough to let me begin. Like a thistle in the rain, still standing through the wind. I am not the dark I carried— I can feel the light get in. There are old songs in the stone walls, there is warmth behind the door. I don’t run from gentle voices like I always did before. There’s a north wind on my shoulders, but it doesn’t cut the same. Somewhere under all this weather, I am learning I can change. I don’t have to trust the sunrise, I don’t have to love the day. But I can stand here in its colors and not turn my face away. And I feel the light get in, through the cracks beneath my skin. Not enough to make me whole, but enough to let me begin. Like a thistle in the rain, still standing through the wind. I am not the dark I carried— I can feel the light get in. Maybe peace is not a choir, maybe healing makes no sound. Maybe it’s a hand beside you when the night comes rolling down. Maybe I am still unfinished, aye, maybe that’s no sin. Even broken things look softer where the light gets in. So I let the light get in, through the cracks beneath my skin. Not enough to erase the past, but enough to breathe again. Like a thistle in the rain, with my roots beneath the wind. I am more than what I carried— and I let the light get in. Heather on the hillside, rain upon my hands. I am still becoming where the thistle stands.