Short Stories II

Some Good Ol' Poetry

~a lil poem for y'all on beauty~
Her skin rises the sun with its gentle complexion,
Gentle bumps along the roadway ahead,
But bright indeed they are.
Her skin caves with strokes of red and black,
A painting potted in its cooing calmness,
Lay between each ridge of her face and arms.
Her hair spirals like the rolling seas risen before dawn,
Captivating and crunching it's way down her back,
Until it's threads of water fly away from the current, and lay framing her nape like a fragile mess.
And finally, her nostrils flare in emotion,
The breath of a blazing fire burning in her throat,
As she breathes the currency of the earth,
With the wide curves of her nose laying as the trunk of this lovely tree
Her lungs expand and deflate with each inhale,
Her chest and stomach rising to a rhythm that only her soul dances to.
The space of her stomach takes is nonetheless true,
The earth's minerals flourishing in anguish,
As she feeds her soul of what it craves most.
"Love and devotion," she says.
She marks the page with a lick to the script,
Setting her book down among her other manuals.
Loving the nature of her body was one of her lessons,
But now was the time for her to teach her other children; she will give their young souls what they are deprived of, in the form of manuals to the sufficient feeding of the soul, through love and heartache, pain and graciousness, devotion and compassion, empathy and utter strength. These are the things that she will pass on to her young children. So small, yet so aware of what they see, the guidance and patience of her will show them what to know as well...