going through changes

he saw me coming vulnerability etched like pen marks on my godson's pants during a too long service. i am a walking tuning fork ting ting ting lonely girl walking only a woman when time and reason demand it talking incessantly not lying not laying in the truth before him. sacrificial lamb not stylish or necessary anymore by biblical accord. tears and intellectually tinged rant army only armor the chinks are too obvious to the naked eye. a woman once said to me what am I invisible fifteen years later i finally know what she meant as she beat her life into my car window with her withered worldly fist deep is realizing that your are are everything and nothing at once. not there yet but I am surrounded by purveyors of the concept... he saw me coming at six at sixteen at twenty seven at thirty three hell at thirty five and a few to twenty times in between. i can't take the blame but who else is there to shoulder all this extra weight not prednisone or enbrel. eyes still peer cutting through the layers and i remember the brevity of real beauty encased in misses sizes and flowing good hair. so i bled out got my new blood thinking, praying that this blood would start the revolution in me yet i've come to know that changes lies not in blood or bone or tears or words but only in grace. and my hands slightly twisting becoming slowly misshapen grotesque in my eyes... in fact are clasped in prayer pleading for its elusive descent because i want to be much more stealthy. sometimes my arrival should be a mere whisper and surprise the hell out of whoever or whatever is waiting