By Gala
Date: 2 July 2000
Coming Into My Own
I have listened to this music
a hundred times this week
woke with the call of morning birds
and hear something new
in the words yet again.
My soul reaches for you
in the pale light
soothes the spirit
with the barest touch
and returns to me
carrying a tad bit more resolve.
I said my I love you
with reckless disregard
and once said
it grew like kudzu
filling everywhere
spreading to every crack
and crevise
until I am overcome
by the vastness of it.
I did not intend to love you.
But it was inevitable.
inescapable
dew sweet on the parched tongue
wildfire in my prairie grasses
part of the cycle of growth
and nothing will grow
without the lick of fire
to clear the path.
The heart gets weed choked
and the fertile ground within
can forget what the touch of the sun can be
can be parched in the downpour
if the old growth is not seared.
What I have,
what I can have.
Who I am
Who I can be.
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