A Woman’s Essence

Good morning. Good bye.

Hello and see you later.

A rumbling inner dialogue

now gently placed on paper.

.

I’ve wondered and I’ve worried,

I’ve settled and I’ve sought.

The human me knows naturally

that my essence can’t be bought.

.

I can’t find her in the shadows

or seek her in the sun.

but I know she’s there in underwear,

almost naked, bare, undone.

.

She whispers words of wisdom

she bellows with her might

What at first you see as softness

turns to iron overnight.

.

Her body is a temple,

a meadow, and a lake,

a flashing sky and moonlit tide,

a quarry, an earthquake.

.

My essence can’t be bottled

in the stores that seek to sell

copies of her beauty:

counterfeits all line the shelves.

.

It’s when I get real quiet

settle deep within my bones,

my essence dares to surface

and shares what she’s always known:

.

that my body is a wonder,

my wisdom far and deep

and no one in this world

can manufacture her for me.

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