Aivy

I saw the lines of your face

etched into a past so haunting,
so full of quick smiles and 
a slow and steady perseverance 
that my breath caught deep 
in my lungs, in my soul. 

She was poise and composure, 
with a laugh that spoke to 
wisdom beyond her earthly years, 
a sound that was timeless, knowing, 
alien in its placement amongst 
hungry bellies and guarded faces. 
We met through a family as shy 
and fleeting as polka dotted butterflies. 
As they float around the temple 
do they worship the gods, or 
do they say thanks to the sun?

I found her to be fearless, a 
leader in the games we play 
as children before we understand
the underlying messages and 
warnings they teach us to survive. 
Counting becomes a march towards 
a borderland between prosperity 
and poverty, the steps in between
share the same 1,2... 1,2 rhythm.  

Her gaze knew too much, an elder, 
it was hard to tell if she was aging
forward, backward, diagonally...
pasts and presents and futures blended. 
She was a watercolor painting with
acrobats flipping in endless circles 
through hardship and success and 
moving through life's motions. 

I could hear your humor in her eyes, 
I could see your grit in the way she 
mastered anything placed in front of her, 
and as she danced I could feel the 
joy in her determination to thrive.