A Living Altar Table

Three baby fern shoots Reaching

up through a broken shield

lying forgotten in a meadow.

The ‘Storm’ is cyclical

yet the ‘Sun’ is Forever…

over the Unruly Years

your tears and frowns

gave birth to a ‘Wisdom’

hard won and Unstealable…

Inner Armour until that Grave.

We trudge ‘Hard Lessons’,

letting complaints become

acceptance… learning the way

of Karmic Repercussions…

Life lets us ‘Fire-Touch’

our journey through Experience,

to Blossom and Grow accordingly.

Under The ‘Thunder’ Of You

… She is not Ashamed nor Proud

of Her ‘Trauma’…

taking time to Hermit,

lick Her (Personal) Wounds alone

… She Emerged,

with a Silent-Strength…

Breath-Taking and Absolute.

The ‘Fire’ inside Her Eyes,

and the ‘Wisdom’ in Her careful,

well-thought-out Words…

draws my Respect, Admiration,

and Attention… closer and closer…

Grace

… assassinating

‘rigmarole’

… with a

no-nonsense

approach…

she cracked

wide open

the afternoon

.. with a

dazzling smile

… and,

outgained

the opposition

… with a

class, style

and fluid

confidence…

that went

a touch beyond

mere outshining…