Free

She cries out, loose-lipped and free-bodied,

a free spirit that knows freedom’s pains.

When you know bondage so close to the heart,

a cage that keeps the muck in not out,

you do not abate at a sign of clarity.

She takes up space like she owns it,

born with the right to say

this is mine and I belong here,

hard soles planted in her words as if

she intends to grow everywhere.

Did you see that shooting star?

I wished for something too big too hold,

for dreamers never know what’s asking too much.

She didn’t bother wishing on something

that left her in a blink of an empty sky.

To cast a wish is to give a part of you,

and she was here to take what was hers.

There is a sureness to her,

something substantial you can grit in your teeth

without falling apart at the clench of a bite.

She slips under the skin like a secret,

knows too much about everything because

she has felt the world in its encompassing fullness.

There is no place life has not touched her,

and she has all the more to give for it.