she is library-hearted.
beneath her vault,
in gentle arcs, totemic words
dance
upon sacred;
she kneels between lines of a sighted page-
the kind that sees further
than self,
the kind that writes earth,
knits solid soil between us;
a candlelit wind
to carry
light to every lung
to fill us clear of suffocation,
of dark voices and empty spaces.
she grants us breath


Sighhh...If you only knew how much these incredible words mean to me, especially on this particular day...I cannot tell you what silvery wings you have gifted me with, dear Scribe. This is not only beautiful, it was also done with such impeccable timing. Good luck in Nicky's contest, Sweetie. Now...go forth & publish already, will ya, huh???



I wanna be her... lol.


15 old applause
