Untypical Grace

I envision something: a woman vexed and beautiful: an un-

typical grace. I’m dearly torn, wrecking majesty, fully un-

adjusted. She stands in strength, edified, suffering in volts.

I leap, somewhat reserved, asking: Have stars loved? She

smiles justice, a forbidden jurisdiction, reaching forth a

threshing soul. I watch a hand palm a heart: energy jungles

a chakra cave. Her smile is vacant; where hurt soars—an

uprising. I feel her, so lost through eyes, weaning an inner

voice. Pearls are made of ivory, dancing ritual, forsaken to

a forest; but we gander daffodils, mush apricots, semi-

intoxicated. I can’t fathom: a myth has vanished, tugging a

jasmine rose. Where has she gone—scraping memories,

aloof, but holy? Visions are maize. I can’t summons an

image where she appears. But tulips part a sea, thrusting

waves into a psyche. I never met her; but I see her: drifting

gently, musing through faces of love.