By Sirilay
From Rag XXI Bardic
They see her walking through the town,
The sun reflecting off her eyes,
Upon her head, a golden crown
Of light that fills the evening skies.
When someone raises up their hand
To say hello and maybe talk.
No need for words or gestures grand,
One word will stop her from her walk.
She listens with a willing ear,
And shares some stories of her own
That make them laugh or shed a tear
Or sigh when someone mentions home
But as the darkness slowly creeps,
She gives them all a fond farewell,
And go to where they think she sleeps,
And rises with the morning bell.
Where claims the silent moon its home,
Whose lonely price we sometimes pay:
A world where stars do not condone
What lies beyond the light of day,
Where silent stars upon us shine,
On nameless birds and beings we,
As nameless rivers intertwine
And wonder on the nameless sea,
Where moon and stars and clouds make fair
All black and white and mottled skin.
Where in the dark, we only care
About our hearts, which make us kin.
Where flying creatures lose their wings,
And we are made of similar parts,
And where what peace the silence brings
Remains forever in our hearts.
We should not live for any less
Than what is in the moon's decree:
To have what gives you happiness,
Forget the day and simply be.
Then in the east, light slowly grows
And all awake lay down to rest,
The bluebird sings, the river flows
Between the banks by which it's pressed.
She sits to watch the day unfold,
To feel the breeze upon her skin
And judge it strong or calm or cold
And feel it change upon a whim.
And as she walks, the air will meet
Nothing more beyond her clothes,
The ground beneath her booted feet
Know only hardened leather soles.
When hidden burdens on her weigh,
With much regret, she trudges on,
And sometimes wonders if to stray
Is just the path she should have gone.
Next time you see her, show concern,
Know there is more than what you see,
And what you teach, you first must learn:
I am not her, she is not me.