she..

she once tried to write

a poem about herself, 

because no one else could

not because they wont

but because they felt

they know her too well, or some

have known her too soon

but the poem refused her

words that barely captured what she wanted

said, remained buried in the rubbles 

untouched by her desire

to come out, and let out a yearning

to be heard

she once tried to sing a song

for herself, to create a melody that she could

play over and over in her head

to dance to and swing with, to come

into a trance for, entangled in a weave

of unrhythmic thoughts and random feelings
rising and falling and fading
to a calm....if only to rise, again

but her music died, somewhere
between the anxious search and senseless calls
the nostalgic journey brought farther
doubts in a path where she lost
her steps, as certain as they were
of the peaks and pits, of the mounds and holes
of a day, and a dream, then
there was fate

she has left
her shadow sewn to her past
and her heart clings to a  promise, bleak
tho it may be, her laughter resounds
in rumbles you hear of an earth moving,
the refined tunes of pleas and wails,
what once spelled indifference

find her smiles afloat the breezes
that caress your half conceived dreams
that soothe wounds you bought to win
a battle, or to lose a war within

a minute before the darkest dawn,
between your god and hers, she awaits
your soft whisper with simple words :
you understood,
all she wanted was to be happy
she was being silly, but
no one ever told her...