She floats above, a ghost.
Lithe. Nimble. Alone—
Not lonely.
*
She unloads turmoil upon my jagged clefts.
I bathe her in silent wonder.
*
I slumber in shadows of first light.
Heart framed in stone—
I am boundless.
*
In me, she exhales dusty secrets.
I swallow her fear.
*
Some days, she weeps.
*
Her bones, my rocks. Her skin, my earth. Her steps, our heartbeat.
I grace her with spirit and sinew.
She begs for redemption, midst tangled spiderwebs.
She runs upon me for hours.
*
In me, she spins her truth.
*
I mirror her footsteps: once fitful, now flawless.
Alone—
Not lonely.
Wow! This is tremendous! "In me, she spins her truth."
I've read this poem a dozen times or more. It's so good. So much to absorb and ponder on. Thanks for continuing to share our work!
Fabulous!!