How can you walk in such blindness,
How can you not see…
How exquisite those cracks in your skin,
How precious your scars,
How enticing your hard won strength,
How striking your passion,
When our guard has stood too long at attention, counting more potential enemies than friends,
When the walls have never been breached, the strongholds built too relentless for penetration,
When fear has become too intimate with our dreams and desires, paralyzing them into submission …
It is then,
One must dredge up every remnant of possible courage,
once used to fight back,
to break free.
Wild desert wind and infectious laughter,
Open windows on abandoned Texas highways,
Cigarette smoke and Ralph Lauren perfume.
Mad with moonlight,
Seared golden by summer sunshine,
Faded blue jeans and iced tea on porch swings,
Creedence on Friday nights and Mozart on Sunday mornings.
She was tenacious hope wrapped in a broken body, begging for mercy.
The storm green depths staring back at me from our mirror,
The words bleeding from my fingertips,
The burden I carried,
The fire within that drives me,
The haunting tones dripping from my throat,
The rebellion that denies me defeat,
The need to be held,
The love that made me.
I am …
my mother’s child.
But the burning soul, the untapped passion boiling underneath.
Do you see her?
Not the sarcasm, the humor, she wears heavy as armor,
But the tenderness she tucks carefully inside the pockets of her favorite coat.
Do you see her?
Not the dark shadows she wears as a distraction,
But the notes, the lyrics, the color raging below her freckle scarred skin,
Begging for an artist’s release.
Do you really see her?
She’s hiding in plain sight.