[we are what was]

the blue haze of her,
a silver cool shower
from her wrists and ears and neck,
chime in wake of her walk.

her easy smile,

cheeks like

a smoothed bed

fitted with flannel.

she's someone's daughter,
someone's mother,
someone's gran,
living these many lives at once.

all of her
became the world she walks,
the conduit of time and creation,
her bravery seems reckless.

i try her softness on,
the way she hums along,
another way to breathe,
and to be.


[about this poem]
this poem was inspired by a woman i saw walking down the street in our old neighborhood. a lot of older folks live in the area, and are not always as at ease with the speed and tone of city life. the woman i saw seemed really satisfied with the world around her, which made me think of her as taking a tour of the world she orchestrated into being.