She is not a nameless
face, encapsulated identity, gasping for
sky and all else lack thereof
And for reasons still largely
unknown to her, is beginning
to see that it is okay, on behalf of
A face with a name,
her identity, locked not in dusty
containers of hollow glass jars
She is mopping up all
else and the sky, rhythmic inhales with exhales
buried deep chested, at peace
About Me
- Tiffany
- Perhaps what lacks undergoing cannot be embraced. On her own as her only, asking neither pity nor grace. Adrift, astray, missed the last train of today, but lift your chin little girl. Soon enough, bright ahead the sun wakes, again dares to show face.
No comments:
Post a Comment