She Is
She is the sky.
She could be a bird,
She could soar so high.
She is the sun.
She could be the moon.
She could be the stars.
She is freedom.
She has no limits,
A shape without form.
I could ask her name,
But she speaks softly.
A sound I can hear
Only as silence.
I look where she looks
Among the rocks and pools.
But I do not see
What she shows to me.
She wants me to walk
Beside her, but I trip
I stumble, unsettled,
Unsure in her wake.
Transfixed by her slow
Graceful easefulness,
I watch her walking,
But miss where she steps.
She sings a soft song
Of belonging, out
To the sky and sea,
As I mumble to the pages
Of a tattered notebook.
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