The girl crying, a sensitive soul in love with life
Plants and trees sprouting birth, silencing her loneliness
Wanting no pain, no misery to bear
Though she sees reality clearly everywhere
She favors the lightness of being
Laughing away the sorrow, others laughing too.
She lives caring for others, laying responsibilities on herself
Often attaching to the tears of silent souls
Never caressing her own feelings
Her shyness lives in the mold of society hardly breaking
The rules to be angry; tough is not her nature
Making her dutiful and tender-hearted,
She stands alone, coming and going,
Watching for a friend, but only the water
That falls from her face, cupped in her hands, has power
Leaving her no nourishment of love or acceptance
Strangers are all she knows, strangely they are friends.
Her mind a vision of doubt, and anxious clamor
She hears, but responds to the next question, not the first
Her temper childlike, her pace slow
Socially, she is fast to reach others, while they wonder,
Yet do not ask, who she is or where she has been
She scouts for the poor, the hungry, and the meek
Finding them refuge, needing them as much as their needs.
Her body aches for rest, to hear waves rolling
To feel foaming froth on her legs
To see birds sailing the mountaintops
She delivers honesty, caution, and wisdom
Her tendrils flaring in notable ire for the travesties
That lie in broken bodies, beaten, and delivered to
Wasteful swamps of passion, violence, greed, and hate.
And each new morning she renders her birthright to the wind
Tiptoeing to the window to breathe in the beauty of the day
Forgetting yesterday, and shutting out tomorrows
Creating the silhouette of justice
The bounty of living embers to stay stoked in the recesses of her heart
Strengthening the crevices opened by love and devotion.
Each day awaits her soft creations
A way to bring the girl of the past and the present together
United in pain and joy, breathing in the air of hope
Once more calling everyone friend, everyone home.