Her limbs contained a stillness
That the universe would not allow even trees or rocks.
Blood would course through veins and arteries
But she could never again blush with
The exertion of a run on a cold autumn day.
And her heart throbbed with all the
Energy that was simply stored
When sitting in a sagging chair
With rusted rivets and screws
And wheels that creaked and slipped
From worn down treads and subsequent disuse.
She was forced to flutter pale, bare eyelids
That were once covered in a plethora of glittering shades
In response to peoples words.
But there was one thing
Perhaps even more heartbreaking though
Hope giving at the same time
She would write beautiful scores
And endless arrays of poetry in her head.
She kept them safe within inches of bone,
That contained her very being,
When all she wanted was to loose them out into the world.
Her spirit would dance
Pirouettes en pointe
When her body could not even sway
To the beauty that was unfolding within her mind.
While people spoke with slow cruelty and
Moved in a way that
Periodically brought pricks of moisture to her eyes
She would sit and
Let their pity wash over her
Because she couldn’t tell them otherwise.