Magnetic

She looked to the sky,

longing for him to whisk her up

with the winds that blew through her heavy hair.

She could feel the freedom of the breeze,

swirling around her like an inviting dance,

asking her to join in, to become the movement.

She wept as she remembered her body,

pulling her back down to the earth

as though magnetic to the weight of her grief. 

Originally published at Journey of the Heart: Women’s Spiritual Poetry

image © Mariann Martland

 

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