a poem

She sees dark daytime skies

Cool wintry raindrops falling

And feels beautiful

On the inside

And not alone

But solid in her solidarity

Palpable is the warmth she feels

Strong is the beating of life within her chest

Between her thighs

And it seems so strange

So foreign that it takes nothing

No one to validate this

Completeness…

Is it a temporary self satisfaction -

Found in the death of one year

And the impending birth of the new

Whatever

It is…

It is a covetous sensation

So engrossing that one would not want

To release it

Or share it

And instead escape into the quiet

Of this pseudo-symbiotic

Makeshift place of internal joy

It is fleeting

She knows

And can slip through her hands like

Wind passing through autumn pillaged trees

Sirens blare in the distance

And people babble in the same language, but say nothing

All around her

But it means nothing

Interrupts nothing

Time is merely numbers spinning on their axis

Of no consequence

At this moment

The sensation still reverberates though her

So alive right now

So real right now

And she prays
for a little more time

To just be this way

Loving

Herself