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Thursday, April 7, 2016


She is full of years. They rattle in her head and squeak in her knees, and she embraces their rhythm, as a drumbeat for moving ever forward.

She is full of sparks. They sizzle in her brain and flash in her eyes, and she circuits them to her fingers, where they manifest in beauty.

She is full of meanings. They grow in her heart and effuse her whole being, and she shares them in words, as they seed in other hearts.

She is full of fires. They spin out from her presence and illuminate her soul, and she compels them to burnish those willing and those not.

See her.  Hair turned to snow by fortitude. Face mapped by hardship and joy. Gait marked by striving.

Pity the fool who takes her for an old woman, this rare and formidable instrument forged by God.

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