She would find a loyal companion, jump into a jeep
and head to Mexico to ride out the storm.
Borders are closed to me now, so I journey within –
opening windows painted shut over the years
and closing doors on things that no longer serve me.
I collect words lying in the dust and string
them like pearls to wear close to my heart.
Words like strength, beauty and love –
they’re battered and bruised but I hold
them tenderly just the same.
There is polished wood and precious books
and soon there will be fresh flowers, their scent
following the light as there are no curtains,
darkness is not welcome here.
What would she do? I’d like to think
she’d do the same,
live the very best life and keep on fighting.
The snow is gone now but this golden witch hazel tree brightened a late winter walk through Stanley Park (Vancouver, B.C.).