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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