She who runsA Poem by GabrielleShe
who runs. There are
those who run. The
murderers, the politicians, the Omelas. There are
many who run. The lost,
the purpose driven, the gifted. But. They are
never as condemned as a She. She who runs, indiscernible in her desolation.
Confused
as much by her own identity and the terrifying reality of it As she is
by the realities of those around Her. Those who
will claim to understand her purpose know nothing of it. Some exist
with there soul purpose to run beside her. She leaves
no room for such things. She is a
wall, She who runs. She is
pain. She is
difference. Everything
in this world that means anything was the art of the She. The
presidents molded. The
countries forged. The trust
broken. She is
stronger for ones who do not believe in her grace. She is
weaker for those who overestimate her dexterity. Some
embrace She, These ones
are typically gifted with the curve of her breast, with the smile of her lips. These ones
understand. They live,
they breathe, She. She whom
runs, Those who
deny the gifts of She. Those who
pray for the understanding. The blood
of She assails them And they
stay far away from her touch They
struggle to understand, Those who
are not. They want
to know. But She
who runs is not to be caught by those who want her They, Those,
Ones and We will find her eventually, She who
runs Through
our veins. © 2015 GabrielleAuthor's Note
Featured Review
Reviews
|
Stats |