she is the one who

she becomes wingless

that woman
who lost confidence
in a solid step
in the lightness of touch
and words’ balance

she prepares to turn into
a prop
for herself
a poster
of strong spirit
the memory stick of dreams
which almost
came true
and were scattered
with beads of kisses
all over the corners
of her unused to empty space
soul

and that void is
in conversations
in streams of events
and facial expressions
as a dulled by aspirin pain
or robbed by a blind shot
calmness

and where that tranquility
it doesn’t possess any straw to hang on to
just
a piece of a broken schooner
which can’t cling
to the shore
and why
they are partners
in the graceful
to the point of losing consciousness
tango of unilateral loneliness

I’ll say more
she’s accustomed
to routines and rituals
and for that
gets labeled by wicked tongues
she’s overworn by dreams
shaves and uncovers
in order to be not ashamed
to show
plucks out
to be savored
smiles
to disguise
uncertainty
and ignite fire
in prairies of eyes

to the goose bumps
I see
the emerging future road
and something like a gypsy camp
rolling
crazy
but close to her heart
pristine
yet familiar

and then
the step
will become more solid than her shakiness of vacillation
a touch
might be evolved to a butterfly
with boundless wings
and words
shall know their place
and limits
and likely
count themselves
as redundant

one more step
and she will share her happiness
with God and
His world
draw the mystery of life
with the butterfly wings
which ruins the emptiness
and brings peace
cheering the hope of a bright future
for there is nothing more greater
among people
than to expect
in a sense
she prepares to become
a mother

November 15, 2018