Thank you grace, Her, Struck (Photo)

Zoë describes another through a string of three poems, March 1, 2019. (Author not pictured.)

Thank you grace.

I fell in love with her

In a way I’ve never fell in love with anyone before

She was the softest form of grace

Yet I’m told it’s a sin to look at her the way I do

Like sunshine never touched the earth the same

And storms aren’t meant to be chased till dawn

Convinced the men before her just wanted to feel the weight of the fight

She finds safety in a shelter for the night

I find safety in saying her name

As if sweetness was meant for me

Maybe I was meant to be in love

In usual ways

With the most beautiful person


 

Her.

I am nothing like the one I love

If she is grace I am mercy

When she is summer I am winter

And when I am in love she is already gone

I am left with a new world at my palm

In my eyes I see her everywhere

I search for her endlessly

I try to find the humble people

The ones who do not take up the entire space in a room

Ones who spend more time looking at the beauty of others

Then at the beauty in themselves

Ones who shine just because they do

I spend my time feeling my heavy heart live in vanity

Passing people up because they do not remind me of her

Still I cannot shake the spell she left on my lips

I cannot pretend that I don’t rewrite our faith in all of my poems

For in all of my poetry there is her



 

Struck.

It’s the way in which she sees the world around her

 

There is meaning to the way she moves

 

Her pace is calculated

 

Unchanged by this world

 

She takes her time

 

 

There is only madness to how I move

 

I run to every flickering spark this world presents

 

For this fire is uncontrollable

 

I see the world as endless possibilities

 

I want to lead my burning fire through them all

 

 

She is lightening, sticking only when she wants

 

I am always the fire beneath

 

 

The fire she started

 

The fire she doesn’t strike upon twice

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