Credit: Bente Hansen

Credit: Bente Hansen

In a dark and secret cobwebbed cave
she cowered in the corner, cowardly, crazed,
fearing the unknown of her surroundings,
unbreathe-able air choking her voice;

‘til, knowing she had to, tore through tangled thorns,
snarling snakes and rabid raccoons;
dazed by her own boldness as by the light
found her true home strongly rooted, becoming

among dragonflies under the moon
ears attuned to subtle skin foretelling change,
eyes beyond the horizon, heart wider than plains;
compassionate when mind rushed to judge,

remembered to ask, say “NO,” speak up, let go.
She lives in my spirit, on wings; inhabits
my nature, and I hers. Good friends,
we laugh, drink wine, write each other poems

dance a slow tango, whirl a wild waltz;
we garden, rooting ourselves in life; fly
on air currents, roll on ocean waves. I need
only listen and trust in her.   


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