*****

Will strangers tell the same story,
As I had seen for years,
I could never tell.

But one thing I knew was,
My friend was a girl quietly
Extending her hand,
Like warmth
In the winter rain,
Among the crowds of chattering
Kids,
Most of whom had declared me a witch.

A girl who smiled before the others,
To me,
A girl whose entire self
Was a force to reckon with.
Now I wonder how
That small body
Held so much force,
So delicate, so reverent.

To me,
She was one of her own kind.
The girl who had a never yielding spirit,
Blessed by the oaks in the gardens of wilderness,
The girl who never bent,
To the will of the people around her,
The girl who cherishes,
The wounded and bruised ones,
The girl who denied,
How strong she was,
The girl who taught me,
To look up to the sky,
When tears filled my eyes,
The girl who told me,
The sky will know my secrets,
It will be the witness,
Of my tears that the earth will eagerly accept my fears.

As days turned to ages,
And seasons passed us by,
I came to know,
More and more of the cage
And the freedom she was bound in.
Protected and treasured,
She was a child well loved by others.

But too much freedom,
As too much protection,
Was nothing but a cage,
Where feathers of her wings,
Clashed against the invisible bars,
And broke with her spirits.

Yet what I couldn't hear,
Couldn't see nor touch,
Was her unbroken faith,
Her hopes to rise and never fall back .
It was her resolution
That led her ahead,
That brightened other's skies,
Upon her departure
From their abodes.

But what else,
I didn't know nor quite understand,
Was the battle she had to fight,
Only to gain the freedom,
From the suffocation,
The sacrifice she had to pay,
With her own wings,
For this resolution.

*****

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