My young body is impatient.

Restless

a bird
in a gilded cage
that would be at peace
for
if not for cage
there to rattle against
like ribs
creating a fortress

she mistakenly
thinks freedom
is granted

hungry for experience
so that her bones may know her truth.

My old soul is ever-patient with her.

Understanding
the energy and vitality of youth
and its contagion

my old soul waits

needing no one else's company but
her own,
she will wait lifetimes if she must

because, for her, there is only one
other
to wait
for.

She sits behind me
and my pain,
under a beautiful arc of roses
dripping
the colour of blood

watching over,
and watching those
that have failed her test
with
compassionate
knowing eyes.

For she doesn't know
what
he looks like in this life,
but she'll know
when she sees him

she will feel it when they meet

and an entire lifetime
will
be
captured in
the
intensity
of their gaze.