I am not beautiful
for I do not shelter stirring
I am not womanly like that.
I may keep my body
in from the cold of season
but my every emotion is left out,
ridiculously so,
in the wind-disaster terrain of mind
that oftentimes is desperate for refuge
though kept out, to bare strength
and kept raw
for the world to devour and grow sick.
These, they will linger.
These, they will hold
for there is no choice
but the path of experience
through lightshine and storm.
You, lady
are my beautiful side.
Kept, instead, yourself hidden
kept yourself scared
or did I mean to say
sacred?
behind the windsheild i sit in the passengers seat and navigate.
click here to speak to me.