Who is she?
Are you asking who she is?
You are, aren’t you?
Because you see her there,
present,
vital,
extra-ordinarily free,
so exquisitely fierce.
Fierce is what lives inside her,
Along with her truth, courage, and drive
they are her deepest parts.
Her deepest parts,
tell me, do you see them?
Her deepest parts?
The strength that is in the bow of her arms?
The power in her soft gaze?
The serenity in her stillness?
Do you see it?
When she stands there like a warrior,
a formidable, mountain of a woman,
humbled, but unafraid?
The honesty,
in her cadence,
the swing of her hips,
the length of her stride,
and the small smile
that tips the corners of her lips?
And her knowledge
all of it showing,
her essence, glowing,
tell me, do you really see it?
Her intelligence?
Well, dear boy,
it’s in her silence,
the way she does not speak,
over you, or in front of you,
her heart, it just listens, and unaffectedly beats.
But make no mistake, boy,
her quiet is not weak.
And her wisdom?
Oh, it’s old,
it’s as old as the sky, the wind,
as old as the sticky, well-worn mat beneath her feet.
That ancient one inside her soul,
once lost, now found
the one accepting Divinity’s return,
the one who knows it all,
who has seen it all,
who is filled with power gushing,
like a deep river rushing,
still has so very much to learn.
So, just listen,
to her whisper
to her poignant, patient breath
when she exhales,
she responds,
by not telling you what to do,
or figuring life out for you,
she wants to let you be,
and love you quietly,
it’s how she loves herself now,
without your approval,
without affirmation from others,
however kind that is.
Sometimes, though,
slightly,
she opens the door,
for that distant, ugly girl,
who
occasionally, but beseechingly
slithers inside her head,
begging to be seen and heard,
pleading for her attention,
wanting to be fed.
The girl who is still holding on to jealousy,
indifference, resentment, resistance,
by a thread
oh that girl, the beastly one
is long gone, yes, but still not dead.
She is human after all.
But, even so,
do you see it?
That confidence about her?
As it seeks to seep inside her,
weaved into her hair, her majestic crown,
her aura, shooting beams of light,
shades of yellow unbound?
And, see it?
The boldness of her stance?
Who does she think she is?
Standing there like that?
Defending and undefended,
like a palisade, tall, serene.
And how does she walk around like that?
Acting like you can’t break her?
It’s because she knows you can’t.
It’s because she broke herself once,
and once is enough.
Now her soul is steely still,
she has both peace and iron will,
and in her bosom, the answers,
to all questions asked, since the day she was born.
She is but a cycle breaking,
a super nova quaking,
And when she rains, out she pours,
pours on your needy parade,
she recognizes pain,
the pain in your charade.
And that’s why you can see it, see it in her
and you can feel it,
the earth, it trembles,
it exudes a wanton heat,
whenever she’s around
because she sees her younger self in you
and she’s sorry for it,
and a little angry too,
for you, you’re going through it,
she watches some dark history repeat.
But now,
now her breath is hot and bold,
she pulls flames up from her belly,
and though mercy, honor, surrender,
are not easy stories to tell,
they are as sure as the truth, her rebel yell.
Who is she you ask?
You are asking, aren’t you?
She is the universal, primal Om,
she is shanti, shanti, shanti,
she is the sound of life revealing,
a mountain,
a tree unfurling,
an eagle soaring,
an elephant roaring,
as falseness crumbles at her feet.
And now
now she is kneeling,
with prayer hands healing,
her third eye peeling,
she is
fierce,
flowing, and humble,
a happy, dancing baby,
a peaceful warrior,
complete.
*And that is what you see.