
			AUTHOR'S NOTES

I started this cycle of poems what seems like a very long time 
ago (but probably wasn't) in an effort to get further inside the 
characters' heads, to understand aspects of the way they think and 
what some of their motivations are.  I think I succeeded quite well in 
some cases, maybe not as well in others, but for the most part I'm 
pretty happy with them.  If anyone has comments of any kind I'm 
always glad to listen to them.

The poem for Haruka is based directly on events in episode 
110, and I'm not sure how clear it is for anyone who hasn't seen that 
one . . . I recommend checking out the synopsis on Hitoshi Doi's 
page.


_______________________________________________________________________

		            Tsukino Usagi


It's hard to imagine:
Me, a queen.
And not just any queen-
QUEEN of the UNIVERSE!
My corner of it, anyway.
That's no small thing when you think about it . . .
which I try not to.
Much.
But sometimes I can't help it.
Tsukino Usagi,
"rabbit of the moon",
klutz.  Crybaby.  Odango atama.
Well, the meatballs are gonna have a crown on them someday.
That'll show them--
Rei-chan, Mamoru . . .
Well, not Mamo-chan.
(Am I mad at him this week?)
He'll be there, after all.
My consort, my husband, my partner in everything.
Just like now.
My daughter's father--
just like now!  Hard to wrap my mind around _that_ one.
(Rei-chan would say, "What mind? 
You mean the plate of spaghetti between your ears?"
Sometimes I pretend she's not going to be there too.)
Think about Mamor- no, Endymion,
because I'll be Serenity then.
Protector.  Love
and lover.
_Not_ like now!
Too weird to think about, now,
considering the only time we touch "improperly"
is in the middle of a fight when he rescues me
by grabbing me any way he can, just to get me out of danger.
I don't think that counts.
Although (no matter what Makoto's romance novels say)
it shows more love than any amount of groping,
which is what the other girls get from their boyfriends.
They look at me strangely because I don't join in those conversations.
Well, _my_ boyfriend plans to marry me--
and is a prince besides, for real--
and prefers to stay on my father's good side.
Dad says weird things . . . I understand "modesty"
and "proper" and "reputation" . . .
but I haven't quite figured out "statutory rape".
Funny, Mamo-chan won't explain it either . . .
And I haven't quite had the nerve to look it up.
I couldn't do it on my own, anyway--
Ami-chan would need to navigate just to get me 
through the library doors!
I suppose I could ask Mako-chan . . . or Minako . . .
Between the two of them I'd get some kind of answer.
But they'd want to know why I want to know.
_But_ they are going to be my advisors . . .
when I'm queen . . .
so maybe I should start asking their advice now.
Never mind.
I get enough practice at that
by getting Ami to help me with my homework.

I'm getting muddled just thinking to myself.
Not a good sign, Usagi!
Hard to rule the universe--
okay, the solar system--
when you can't follow your own trains of thought.

I'd better work on that.
If I think hard enough about it every day,
I'm sure I'll get better!
Of course I will!

Except . . .
now I've lost track of what I was thinking about.
Oh, well.
It can't have been very profound . . .
Can it?

__________________________________________________________________________
		  "Gold, Untarnished"--Aino Minako

What have I done?

I had it all, I think.
No one would ask for more.
Showered in glory, the idol of my peers.
Beautiful and powerful,
blessed with strength of my own
and gifts beyond the ken of those around me.
I had fame if not fortune,
and I only lacked that because I didn't want an agent.
What a hassle!
But they made the manga--it was mine.
The movie--it was me.
Video games.  Interviews.
I was a _celebrity_.
When I had that mask on, they all wanted to know me.
I had it all.

I had nothing, too.
No one to understand me.
No one I could pretend was my equal,
not even for a little while.
No one to confide in.
No one who even tried to be my friend.
I was alone, aloof, the snob from Tokyo,
ignored if not despised.
"Who does she think she is?" they said.
Once, someone added, "Sailor V?!"
in a voice of such contempt 
that I felt like she had beaten me up.
Punched me in the gut, so hard I couldn't breathe.
Going home, Mom asked what was wrong.
And I couldn't tell her.
I had all and nothing.

Was it worth it?
I thought it was, for a while.
And I gave it all up.
For what?

So I can stand in the shadow of someone
more powerful than I.
As beautiful as I.
Loved by everyone, almost,
despite her secrets.
Stand in her shadow, a reflection of her,
instead of being my own light.
So I can be part of a "team".
So what?  So I have to reach
a consensus on every issue, strategy
or whatever else.
So I have to watch their backs, keep track
of others' movements instead of my own.
So I have to, sometimes, walk them through
what comes to me as naturally as breathing?
I've been doing this far longer than they have--
and going it damn well without them.

Was it worth it?

I have friends now; this is a novelty in itself.
I can relax, let my hair down,
be Minako as well as the senshi.
There are people to watch _my_ back.
People I can believe in, confide in,
argue with, hang out with,
fight beside, trust.
People who understand, who build me up
where I've always been torn down.
Sisters more than friends--
friendships sometimes end,
but we are forever.
We can say anything we want, 
anything we have to, because 
eventually we will _have_ to work things out.
We have the luxury of being able to hurt each other.
We have the knowledge to be able to hurt each other
more than anyone else ever can.
We have the love that keeps us from doing so.
The love.  Tears.  Hugs and pillow fights.
That's what we're made of!
No one will ever break us.
No one!  And for that,
I know,
in a part of me so deep that I sometimes forget it's there,
so deep that I sometimes question it,
it was all worth it.
The mask is off.

Too bad I didn't keep it--
it would've been good fuel
for our bonfires at Rei-chan's shrine.

__________________________________________________________________________
			"Solitary"--Jadeite

Lone wolf.
I stand alone in a world
inhabited by loners.
But I have more than most humans have--
a purpose.  It's pretty simple, really.
Free the dark goddess who sleeps
and who, in her slumber and desire to waken,
overshadows all our lives.
She has my soul; her avatar, my obedience.
Their greed drives me more than my own ever can.
Their lust for power inflames my mind,
drives me senseless with its force,
until my heart and spirit are lost in them.
One might call it religious ecstasy,
if one were in a dark and humorless mood.
This joining, which is all that is left to me,
is not something that I desire.
But they are above me, and who would dare to question?

Countless lives below me.
Youma, who live and die at my whim or word.
At my hand, if I'm in the mood.
They serve as I serve . . .
But they are so far beneath me I feel
little need to acknowledge their existence.
Trash.  Ugly, squalling demons
that make me sick with revulsion, most of them.
Even their deaths are of little entertainment,
sometimes, because they have been so twisted,
as I have, as we all have,
that a part of them savors the pain . . .
And the release, which a part of them wants
more than anything else.
We are alike in that, I know,
on the occasions when less . . . desirable memories surface.

So what am I left with?
I have my equals.
We all have our strengths and weaknesses,
which balance us perfectly.
As we are, none of us can kill another,
however much we wish it at times.
My equals . . . once, my friends.
But time turns you to deepest love--
I see Kunzite and Zoisite, who have chosen
to lock themselves together in a symbiosis
no totally sane, death-fearing mortal
would ever choose.  Their love is true, but desperate;
they have only each other, and they hold on
with a fierceness that belies their lowly human origins.
This love, barely tolerated and not understood
in this place of bitterness and betrayal,
is their torch, their one light that holds at bay
the darkness we have been forced to embrace.
It is more than anyone else has,
and they wield that truth as a weapon.

Or, time causes you to hate with a "holy hatred".
Zoisite shares a bond with Nephrite that is 
nearly as powerful.  I can _feel_ its force,
its mindless, animal loathing, when they look at each other.
They'd rip each other's throats out, if they could,
without weapons or magic.  They'd glory in the blood,
the fulfillment.  One day one of them will die.
He will push too far, too hard, and be destroyed.
The survivor will only fall deeper into madness.
They too feed on each other, enjoying every clash
of wills, of wits, of power.  They need it.
This passion they share is also beyond humanity.
It is not magic which has severed us from those
who live and die on Earth.  It is the dark needs 
and fulfillments of those who know they cannot die.

I know these things because I stand apart.
Time has brought me to . . . indifference.
They stay sane, as well as they can,
through their bonds to each other.
I stay sane by watching them.
I no longer condemn.  Frankly,
I no longer care about them or the outcomes
of their personal wars and loves.
And they don't much care about me.
I do not share their wild carelessness of emotion,
their schemes and plots.  If it wouldn't leave me bored,
I'd destroy them all in a heartbeat.

And yet . . . there are moments.
Even now, after a thousand years,
there are still surprises to be found in each other.
And there are moments of shared, forbidden memory
when eyes meet across a gulf of time.
Memory we can't quite touch, can't express.
And I remember then a bond of brotherhood
that has rotted by necessity.  A time when
those who hate only argued, and made up too.
When they stood solid and trusted at each other's backs,
differences put aside.  A time when those who love
were not so lost in each other that they were consumed.
A time when I stood beside them, instead of away.
And in that instant, before magic older and stronger than we are
sweeps the memory away, we look at each other,
the loved as well as the hated, and we remember,
and mourn for what has been destroyed between us.
_________________________________________________________________________
			"Mystery"--Osaka Naru

Mystery.
Doesn't every girl fall for an older man?
Don't we all, at least once,
see the boys around us as children?
I did, once.
My first love . . . but if only he'd acted
like most older men would have, and ignored me.
It would have faded.
Mystery.
I would never have known him,
the gentle-seeming, yet powerful . . .
rich and handsome--no, beautiful . . .
every fourteen year old girl's dream.
My dream.  My mystery.  My secret.
Why did you come to me, Nephrite?!
I know your name, now.
Your dream.  Your mystery.
Your evil.  Your self.
All dark shadows, black diamonds . . .
And I loved you anyway.
Did I damn myself by protecting you,
you who would have destroyed my world?
Or did I redeem you,
as you saved me before you died?
Can someone of total evil speak of love?
Or chocolate parfait?
What a child I was.
"Do you have holidays in that Dark Kingdom of yours?"
You laughed.  Can't say that I blame you.

That was the night that my heart saw the truth,
although my head already knew.
Angel of darkness, outside my window . . .
shadow lover waiting to be invited in,
vampire who fed on the energy of my world instead of blood . . .
You weren't human.  And yet . . . were you once?

I remember your eyes most of all.
You touched my face, gentle,
but forcing me to obey.
You made me look into your eyes.
Blue, I remember, but that wasn't what I noticed.
The power that sucked me in, searched my soul,
pushed what was light in me away, as irrelevant,
and pulled my darkness to the surface, for only a moment.
It frightened me.  I frightened me.
And your voice, filling my mind, bypassing my ears . . .
soft and compelling.  Rich and so beautiful.
I would have done anything for you.
I tried, that night.  I tried so hard to save you  . . .

One of your own, above us, mocking us.
Did he order your death because of me?
Or was I only an excuse?
My heart shrieked "Evil!" at him,
as it never did at you.
His laughter echoed around us, sinister, madness . . .
But there was a change in his eyes,
when you said he knew nothing of love.
Denial, instant and complete, though he didn't answer you.
If he loved, and you loved . . . I still don't understand.
And that night, my dark love,
all I understood was your blood all over me.
Hot and sticky, and green . . . mortal but inhuman.
I understood that you left me.
You left me nothing, not even a body.
I never saw you dead, Nephrite.
The light you became, and my tears, blinded me.
And when I could see, and stop screaming,
you were gone.  And you left me wondering.
Good and evil, Nephrite of the darkness.
You who vanished in a vortex of lights.
I will never understand.
But I will never stop trying.
Mystery.
I will never, never forget.
______________________________________________________________________
			"Uprooted"--Kino Makoto

Funny, isn't it?
How most memories fade away,
no matter how hard you try to hang onto them.
Some stick around, it's true,
but can you really trust them?
Hard to tell.  Some days I try to remember
the most important moments of my life.

I always smile at this one.
There I was, fighting for my life,
and a cat spoke to me.  A cat!
I thought I must be going crazy,
but if I was it hasn't worn off yet.
So I did what she told me, and . . .
it's so hard to describe.  I was standing in
the heart of the lightning, and I wasn't afraid.
It burned around me, but it didn't burn me.
It blazed and crackled and whispered to me,
murmuring my name and promising me power 
like I'd never dreamed of.  Never.
And it came when I called it.  
The lightning gave me its name and I
screamed it to the heavens.
"SUPREME THUNDER!"
*Jupiter, my guardian . . !*
I'll never forget it, the moment I stood unscathed
in the first fire that couldn't frighten me.

And then there are the memories of events
you never witnessed.  You know what I mean.
No one even describes it to you.
No one has to.  You can see it perfectly,
and no matter how horrible it is,
you can never ever erase it from your mind.

I can see the flames burning the wreckage.
Flaring in the darkness.
I can see the plane falling from the sky,
hear the guttering of its failing engine,
feel the rush of air where no currents should be.
Feel the power of the explosion.
And though I am untouched, I can still see it.
See it tear through their bodies like scissors
through unwanted paper dolls, the heat
cauterizing the wounds the metal shards open up.
Empty metal hulk, never meant to fly,
hurled from the skies it dared to violate.
Taking its riders to death with it.
I see it all.  I hear it all.  They are
dying everywhere, faceless bodies that
are burned to nothing, ashes that blow away.
Faceless and nameless . . . except as I watch,
in my mind, I can see _their_ eyes as they die.
Mama . . . Daddy . . .
Oh please, don't leave me alone . . .
But they are gone, stolen by the plane and the fire.
All I have left, the last real memory, is a phone call.
"Kino-san, we regret to inform you . . ."
They regret to inform me.  Me and all the others.

I stand in the sparkling blue fire and speak to it.
I hold it in my hands and it doesn't burn me.
The fire in my memory never burned me . . .
But it stole.  It left me alone, alone for so long . . .
Now I fight beside fire, its very spirit.
"FIRE SOUL!"  I've been so grateful to hear
those words, so many times now,
that I can't be afraid.  Fire can kill,
but I can't afford to cower away.

I am strong.  People fear me, they know what
my fists can do.  And they are afraid,
even though they don't know that what
my open hands can wield is far more deadly.
They are respectful to me, always.
And so they would never dare to ask me why, 
when a plane flies overhead, too far away to do any harm,
I cringe and close my eyes, and stand frozen
until long after the engines' drone has faded away.
They don't ask.  And they don't know, will never know,
that later I will curl up in my bed, in my lonely home,
and shake and sob like any lost child.
__________________________________________________________________________
		"Work in Progress"--Kaioh Michiru

Oh, child.
A princess, it's true, the bearer of great power,
but you're a child still, Usagi.
You're not yet Serenity,
although you have your moments.
Those moments make me pause.
We were born in the same year, Usagi-child.
How did I become so much older than you?
We are not totally different.
We both have love, so strong
that thinking of it makes me weak.
But you love everyone, Usako,
and I've poured myself into one person.
We watch you, Haruka and I,
and sometimes we despair of you.
We watch you eat (and eat, and eat!),
fail tests with admirable consistency,
shop, sleep, and arrive late for everything.
We stand apart because we must.
Someone has to be strong, and we've been chosen.
Circle of darkness to protect the light within.

Oh, princess.
I've seen you weep with equal passion
for strangers and for the sisters of your heart.
The girl who cries at the least discomfort
is the same one who would endure any suffering for those she loves.
I have seen you _beg_ to sacrifice your life and power
to save those around you.
It frightens me to realize you would do so for me.
Usagi-chan.  Serenity-sama.
It is my responsibility to die for you if necessary.
Hard to fulfill my duty if you try to protect _me_.
You've worked your magic on me,
cast the web that entangles everyone whose life you touch.
You've made us love you, you foolish child.
I hope it's not the death of you.
Or the death of us.

I am prepared to die, but not as willing as Haruka is.
Daughter of shrieking, deadly winds, reckless, is my love.
You are more fortunate than you know, Usako,
to have seen her gentler moments.
She lives every moment in eager anticipation of death.
Oh my princess, save her if you can!
Our souls are so entwined
that I would follow in a heartbeat.
I have no desire to die, Serenity,
but less to be in this world without her.

It feels as if I've fallen so very far,
to plead with a child, even silently, for help.
_________________________________________________________________________

			"Visionary"--Hino Rei

"What do you see?"
That's usually the first question they ask
once they get up the nerve.
"When you look into the fire,
does it . . . you know . . . talk to you?"
They're never sure if they believe me or not.
What do I see?
Nothing.
The flames don't bend themselves into pictures.
No crackling voices mutter in my ears.
I just . . . know.  It tells me.
Not obedient, fire.
It comes when it's called, but that's
often the extent of it.
"What do you see in it?"

"What do you see in her?"
That's another common one.
I wish people would at least not ask that
exactly at the moments I'm ripping my hair out over her!
Usagi no baka!  Idiot!
My best friend, though I'd never confess it.
She drives me up the wall!
So I yell at her.  I've even hit her
if she needed it.  Then she cries.
It doesn't matter if I lash out
with my tongue or my hands.
I feel so bad, then.
She has perfected the art of staring
with wide blue eyes, slowly filling with tears.
It makes me want to shriek,
but she always beats me to it.
Yes, I'm hard on you, Usagi!
Someone has to be!
_Someone_ has to make you live up to your potential.
Daughter of the silver moon, so bright in spirit,
and all you do is sit around and eat and sleep.
Are you a bear preparing to hibernate,
or a senshi??!!  Choose!

But there is no real choice.
For our lives, for our world, you must be all that you can be.
And so I'll be the one to push you,
berate you, lecture you, taunt you,
drive you to tears, knock some sense into you.
For however long it takes.
And one day, my dearest friend, I know I'll look at you . . .
and fall to my knees in awe of your majesty.
That's what I see in you.  Usagi no baka.
__________________________________________________________________________

		    "New Miracles"--Meioh Setsuna


How long is too long?
To live, I mean.
Imagine immortality, and like most
you will long for it, and your desire
will grow stronger and stronger
the more you think about it.
Are you lucky?
One day you will be what I am now,
all of you, you children of a lost kingdom--
you too will feel ageless, after a thousand years,
youthful still, but unspeakably ancient.
You will look around you,
and feel that everything has been done;
all your dreams fulfilled and forgotten.
Your heart will break within you
as you realize that you must go on,
however unwillingly,
however much you want to sleep.
You will be needed, and though you know
that nothing can ever surprise you again--
the past and future secure in your hands--
you will carry on.
Will you be lucky?

I came to this time, weary, certain of every outcome.
Because I had known you, because I would know you,
because you seemed so familiar to me,
I underestimated you.  All of you.
I took two to my heart, and loved them, taught them,
but it seemed to me that you others
would not offer anything of interest.
Not for a long time.
I underestimated you.
Children all, with no knowledge of the world.
Terribly innocent, so full of dreams and passion.
I underestimated you.

I, who have seen kingdoms rise and fall,
who have stood aside and watched,
or fought alongside my people,
I thought I was immune.
No awe would ever pierce my hardened soul again.
Wonder would never lighten my burden.
To know that I was wrong . . .
to be gladdened by it . . .
is a miracle, bright and shining.
I never dared to dream of it.
And while life goes on, forever,
you will all be with me now--
new miracles, never hoped for,
but so precious
that even my ancient eyes fill with tears.
__________________________________________________________________________

		"Duality: Hands and Hearts"--Tenoh Haruka


My heart . . . pure?
Can it be?
Can I believe her?
Lying now would gain the witch nothing, but . . .
Pure?  This locked, dark heart?
I have been willing--trying, desperate--
to tear the hearts of innocents from them.
Some nameless three.  I would have sacrificed them, and more.
But can I sacrifice you, Neptune?  As she plans to?
How long do I have to decide . . ?
Not nearly long enough, as I find you,
see you pinned to an altar meant for holier things,
battered unconscious by a blow meant for me.
And I wonder, would the deaths we'd cause
be any less horrible for not profaning sacred places?
I have two hearts.
One wants to save the world with the blood of others.
One wants only to protect us both.
The heart of the male, the heart of the female,
both pound inside my woman's body.
Both hate her, witch who would take the hearts she calls pure . . .
should I hate myself then, for wanting the same?
Only you know how much I do.
Only you have felt my heart racing,
in passion and in dreams of self-loathing.
Only you have held me through those moments.
To see you held so . . . it blinds me.
This hatred is pure.
I would die willingly now, to kill her.
But you take the choice from me.
I see you tear the unnatural bonds that hold you down . . .
see you start to run to me, when you should run away--
You said we have to ignore each other's danger!
I didn't listen to you, but why don't you listen to yourself?!
I see you driven to the ground . . . beautiful, familiar body broken . . .
see you stand again, trembling, nearly immobilized with pain . . .
and I want only to catch you, hold you until you are whole again.
Instead, I hear your voice, in agony:
"I will not let you die!"
And my heart knows, somehow, that you will not live to see me die.
You run, and fall, and stumble to your feet, and fall . . .
I know I will never hold you again;
never feel your heart beating in rhythm with mine;
never hear your breathing as you sleep beside me,
the pulse that lets me know that _something_ can still be right in my world;
never make music with you again, the harmony
that brings the world to its feet for wonder as they listen.
Never . . .

Against every odd, you reach us . . . and the gun goes off.
MICHIRU!!!
You are so still . . .
your heart is as beautiful as I'd dreamed,
as I've always known it to be.
Can mine be so?
My hands are so tarnished,
how can it be?
You would know, but I can no longer ask.
The music will end, now.
The duet is over.
Only one path is left, only one choice . . .
I will never know if I could have sacrificed you . . .
that decision was yours alone.
But I can sacrifice myself, so easily;
without you, what am I?  I am giving up nothing.

And then . . . the witch is gone, replaced by the foolish child,
who offers me one trembling hope.
For one moment . . . but it is not enough, Michiru love.
It is not fair!
You have left before, gone into your own world,
where I could not follow, but you have always come back to me,
even when I cried out for you in silence.
I am reaching . . .
You said you loved my hands, Michiru.
See, they will bring us back together!
The sea and the sky, one forever . . .
Forever, do you see?
My hands?  The gun?
The sword freed from my body,
to be reflected in your mirror?

The darkness comes too slowly.
I can only pray it came more quickly for you.
But I see the end of the Silence in it,
and in the light of my own heart,
as it circles with yours.
It is pure.
The duality is resolved.
I can hear your voice, the music of the violin,
calling to me.  Waiting for me.
Michiru . . !
It is pure.
________________________________________________________________________

				Mizuno Ami


Eyes.  All staring, all focused on me.
Disapproving because I do well,
narrowed with anger and jealousy.
Whispers, softer than rustling papers,
spring up whenever I pass by.
I am so alone . . . but always watched.
My skin crawls under the weight
of these nameless people's distaste.
I am forbidden even the comfort of solitude.
No, they must watch to see what I'll do.
They will have nothing to do with me,
but they won't go away!
They leave me alone, but barely.
They are always there, at the edges of my vision,
taunting by their very presence.
"Genius", they murmur.  "Snob".
Occasionally, "Cheat!"
That alone makes me want to acknowledge them--
to stand and defend myself.
My friends are the books that give me knowledge;
I've sacrificed any other friends for them.
I am alone.  I will remain alone.
But I will NOT bear this accusation.
Or, I would not, if I had a choice.
If there was anyone who knew me
well enough to take my part.

No tears.  I've denied myself their comfort
for so long that they no longer try to fall.
No anger.  No misery.  No feeling.
Only a dull pain inside . . .
with luck it will fade soon too.
The heart empties as the mind fills.
Slow, welcome process.

Who needs them?!

I am almost safe.  Almost immune.
Another day, another year, another change,
another new ring of nameless faces and faceless names.
Well, I'm ready!  I know the tricks, now.
They can't hurt me.  No one can.
The expected whispers come and fall away.
They don't hurt--almost.
It would have been all right.
Except for the cat.
It can't hurt to pat a cat, can it?
Of course not.
Except for its owner.

I see her too late.  She looks . . . familiar?
Not a classmate, but . . .
Oh.  In the hall.  She whispered.
Well, actually she said it loud and clear, but . . .
I know what she said, and I can see that she knows I know.
Blue eyes darken and lower.
Is she--embarrassed???
She covers her reaction, but not with more teasing.
She introduces the cat and leaves . . .
taking me with her.
She's a whirlwind!  (Is she crazy?
Doesn't she know what people will say about her?)

A day of firsts.
First day in a new school, a new juku.
First day in an arcade.
The first time I won a game in an arcade!
Everyone stared . . . admiring me?
First friend.
First two-way conversation with a cat.
First transformation, first attack.
A friend.  How odd, that bubbles exploding 
from my hands didn't faze me half as much as she did.
A friend.  My friend.  Hello Usagi, goodbye quiet life.
A whirlwind day.  A whirlwind kind of friend.
And a little voice in the back of my mind saying that
I'll love her forever . . . even when she wants to borrow my homework.
_________________________________________________________________________

			"Scars"--Tomoe Hotaru

Alone in the darkness again
just how I like it.
No one here to see me,
to mock my weakness,
to run from my healing touch.
No one to wonder at the darkness
of my clothes, or why I wear them so.

Scars everywhere, covered by fabric.
Lines traced all over,
from where I was reassembled
brought back from death.
I should have died.
But why do I think I should
never have lived?
Whose voices echo in my mind,
not me at all?
Dark laughter, a feeling of evil,
there since my father gave me
a second life, putting me
back together with his own hands.
Why do I think, "with his own soul"?
Metal in my body, shadow in my mind;
the legacy of this life he gave me.

Deeper inside, she sleeps.
Me, but not me.
She is not evil, but I can feel
what will happen if I wake her.
Her name is Destruction,
the Bane of the world.
I can't let her wake up . . .
she can heal my scars
as I heal others, but I am
more afraid of her
than they are of me.
Everyone would run, if they only knew
what sleeps inside me.

Here, I am friendless--
Professor Tomoe's daughter,
alive with the promise of his brilliance
and the face of my mother.
Nothing more.
The firefly in the darkness, 
my light is fading.
Consumed by the powers
intent on taking my life.
I can't let them wake up.
One Evil, one Destruction.
Either will destroy everything.
But I am so weak . . .
and they speak to me of Silence
and the peace it would give me
if I only set them free.
__________________________________________________________________________

		    "Letting Go"--Tsukino Ikuko


"Mother," you say to me as you pause in the doorway,
"Mother, don't worry.  I'll save everyone."
Did you mean to tell me?
I watch you run out into the dark and the rain,
and I want to call you back
as a good mother should.
I want you to be safe in your bed,
your eyes closed in sleep, not like this,
glinting with angry tears and determination.
What happened to you?  How did I
fail to notice the changes in you?
You hid them well, buried the determination
and strength and love under tears and sulks
held over from your childhood.
Usagi.  My little girl.
I want to hold you back, hang onto you,
not let you run away to face death . . . again.
Will you come home again?
If you die tonight, will they even be able
to identify you as my daughter?
When you wear that tiara and that costume,
how will they know where to take you?
Do you know that I know who you've become?
Do you know how proud I am of you?
How can I tell you if you never come home?
