Tuesday, July 30, 2013

she is

She is my child who roars and weeps. 
Her eyes flashing in rage will turn as quickly to delight. 
In a storm of tears she bursts suddenly into laughter. 
I knew her intensity from the womb, it pulled energy from my fingernails,
she swept me on waves knocking me over and for months I could do nothing but curl myself, shipwrecked, around her. 
She is born an island she is rock and sea. 
She collects shells, the broken ones. 
She crashes and falls apart and comes up a blue dolphin, a delicate sand dollar, a singing coastal town.
And what can I do but curl around her and sail her coasts and storms
and every day, a hundred times, sun and rain I tell her, 
You are my sunshine Annie. You are my starshine.
I know.
I love you Annie.
Me too.
And in the night when tides are low she comes soundlessly to me,
needing to anchor, needing the curl of the moon around her.

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