She was the manifestation of underground roots,
Those seldom seen from which such gift can be given, bronze skin.
Her hair symbolized what I felt as our eyes connected.
Her voice lifted my spirit higher than it's ever been.
Without anything to return, How do I reciprocate such a gift.
A thank you would hardly do justice.
Where has this been all of my life, her- using my hands as a vase to convene.
Hearing her voice blossom from the bud of where I stood.
A question that went in silence.
For the light that shines bright inside her blocks out that of the sun.
A space free to fill with what you please.
These are the words I pictured her telling me.
Over and over again until I was full enough to be tilted over and water her just
as shes watered me.
The root that no one remembers to water
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 4:09 PM UTC
She was the manifestation of underground roots,
Those seldom seen from which such gift can be given, bronze skin.
Her hair symbolized what I felt as our eyes connected.
Her voice lifted my spirit higher than it's ever been.
Without anything to return, How do I reciprocate such a gift.
A thank you would hardly do justice.
Where has this been all of my life, her- using my hands as a vase to convene.
Hearing her voice blossom from the bud of where I stood.
A question that went in silence.
For the light that shines bright inside her blocks out that of the sun.
A space free to fill with what you please.
These are the words I pictured her telling me.
Over and over again until I was full enough to be tilted over and water her just
as shes watered me.
The root that no one remembers to water
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