this woman I know

               — for Melissa

she is lovely, kind, funny and wise, 

pays attention to details that matter 

and gives credit where it is due 

she recognizes brushstrokes and patterns

hidden within the weavings 

of intricate tapestries of silence

she pauses for just one more moment, 

as her jagged, deep inhalations memorize

each aspect of this undiluted world, 

this crazy, unzipped life

where wings are frail and transparent,

too easily bent or broken, 

but if you are careful, 

they will carry you far enough

before you fall

she comes and goes, 

waving farewell without a sound - 

she changes her name until it fits, 

she weeps, she dances, she hums

then revolves,  

goes back to an awful beginning

she cannot seem to forget, 

where words once seduced her 

into the latticed lateness 

of an empty morning

without coffee or bread to bind her wounds

small sentences held her hands, clasped together

as they shook through thicker shades of night

she never quite believed were possible

beneath bridges she once burned,

she sifts through soft gray ash, 

seeking bones to bury. to ask forgiveness, 

a wretched ritual of penance none of them require - 

there was no offense remembered 

but oh, 

she is warmed by a single notion 

that one day they might sing her sinew slowly 

into a different place, 

one without boundaries

and unjust rules

beyond horizons of barbed wire,

she sees unsaddled horses grazing 

and smiles

there is a boxcar sitting,

still on the track, 

quiet, open and waiting

for her to run, jump, 

settle inside the early dusk

and fly far away 

to where dreams are shaped

and reborn,

loosened from the long list of madnesses 

decreed by a mundane existence

where words don't seem to matter much

or mean so much, she cannot speak - 

her eyes turn black, 

shining wet with ink

apologies kick off their shoes

as bare toes squish and stretch, reveling 

in the last days of summer's lush green

leaves turn, crisp and drift,

briefly ablaze with fiery, vivid colors,

her cheeks reddened by an unexpected breeze

they become new reminiscences for her to tuck safely 

between those sacred folds 

of her stitched and mended heart

anticipating another journey

to somewhere else,

where she can simply breathe