She was
She was a women
with eyes
poised, aged wisely,
but hard.
She birthed babies in bathtubs
and frightened scarecrows
away.
On an island covered in
Italian storms, she
gained and lost control.
She nailed down desires
like drifting,
too-free leaves, floating aimlessly
in wind without direction,
and motherhood that came too soon.
She learned to reopen arms
she swore she'd never open again.
She breathed for years through
streets and celebrations,
and losses
that shook and rumbled
her stoic soul.
She was the concrete jungle.
She was the master bearer of secrets and misery past.
But when
pain swooped in like vulgars
on a line,
she passed
away,
and lay
floating above those she left behind.
Whispers follow them
down hallways
now,
I'll never really be gone...
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