She moves through wind,
storm   wild  in  feathers,
a wing  bent  against  the
                                  cold.
­
Her silence falls  heavy,
her words clipped short,
her  eyes  cast   down—
                always down.

Shadow wraps her close
her  shape,   tucked   in.
She wears mistrust  like
a mask,  always  smiles
to stay quiet—a wound
                  bound tight.

Inside,  her heart aches,
stuck to repeat—caged
in her  nest  of  tangled
thoughts, and her hope
swallowed—kept  nice
and hidden,  like a key
she thinks she lost.      

If only the dawn knew
where to find  her, and
lift her wing, to see her
rise  and   set  her  free.