Instead of an article today, I’ve decided to write a string of beautiful sentences.
The following doesn’t have a title or a specific storyline. Lately, I’ve been noticing that words can be absolutely gorgeous; plus, it’s a beautiful February day, and sitting outside of Brockstein Pavilion has inspired me. So, here we go.
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There’s something about the way she moves.
No, no, wrong phrasing. More like, in the way she carries herself.
She tends to hold another’s eyes at level--sea level.
The storm and the chaos lie within her, so her touch becomes lightning.
Her voice is charged
With passion, courage, and a thin, subtle layer of sensitivity.
Time has not healed her;
Rather, thicker skin covers her wounds
So a certain unevenness leaves her learning how to mend things:
Hearts, arguments, the broken lamp, writer’s block.
Her eyes are dark.
It says ‘dark brown’ on her license,
But she can see specks of black if she tilts her eyes at a certain angle.
In fact, her perspective stands at a different angle -- more like 87 or 91 degrees, not 90.
The light bulb has the great honor of showcasing these specks of black
That represent space of the universe or old, familiar pain or simple musings of her mind.
God could not pick a certain color to paint all of this
because the intricacy of it all lied between beauty and confusion.
She does not dress to impress.
She dresses to suppress
The judgment, the misery, the verbal arrows
That come at her because she does not conform to the norm.
It unnerves people and pushes them against the walls of the box.
They do not know whether to look at her, above her, or beyond her,
So their eyes settle on her and start to focus.
She stands tall and proud
And confidence is something that slowly radiates from her.
A goddess, some may say.
A sun, others will comment.
Me, she speaks softly but firmly.
She uses caution as her shield.
She uses trust as her foundation.
She uses honesty as her mediator.
She uses rain as her shelter.
She uses time as her marker.
She is a warrior, and she uses words as her sword.
