She stood on the edge of her world
with invisible wings, tattered and torn
slowly patching themselves
deciding right then
that she would renew her own scars
lashes strung with dewdrops of freedom
she soaked in the power of exisiting
as life danced under her skin
color collided with curiosity in her irises
eager hands stretched
toward her own future
that teasingly strut in front of her
free from the capture of another, she was her again
she glowed with multi-faceted truths
she found herself in the gentle lift of her heels from the ground
fo the breath filling her lungs
like the filling of a pool with crystal clear water
and in the sure, steady beat
of her own repaired heart.
Bowie
11