She is a visionary in her dreams, blind in her waking.
She is an innocent criminal and a sinful saint.
She fights for her life to move closer to death
And succumbs to her dying so she can continue living.
She is a contradicted emotion wrapped in verified numb feeling.
She stares up to her eyes before pulling her gaze down to the heavens.
She soars and she sinks,
She heals and she breaks,
She releases and she holds.
Every shade of dull grey and all blackened dye of the rainbow paint her world in illuminating technicolor.
She flies through her grave as she buries herself in the sky,
Creating fiction in fact, reality in imagination.
She is now and she is then.
She is a mirror of doubt and a reflection of faith,
Giving order to war and mayhem to peace.
She loves too fiercely and hates too gently.
She displays parody in her tragedy and sobriety in her farce.
She is a cowardly vixen of fearless seclusion,
Hearing wisdom in youth and ignorance in maturity.
She is night and she is day.
She is a grounded raven and a lion taking flight,
Dancing through her grief, mourning her delight.
She is less and she is more.
She is empty and she is whole.
She embodies tactless grace and divides unforgiving mercy,
Dying as she lives and living as she dies.
She is crazily sane and lucidly obscure.
She falls together and she rises apart,
Engaged to the stars and estranged from the moon.
She is all holy destruction and each depraved creation.
She is light and she is dark,
Connecting with the earth and detaching from her world.
She succeeds as she fails and loses as she wins.
She bravely battles and shamelessly surrenders.
She is life and she is death.
She is nothing and she is the universe.
Originally published at Journey of the Heart: Women’s Spiritual Poetry