When she’s gone

Do you remember her?

We never really thought of her too much. 

The quiet girl in the back of the class 

She spoke in breathtaking whispers 

And lived in her own rhythms.

We hurt her, we bullied her

Picked at her skin and left her with bruises 

Stole her precious things, her strange

Jewels and the life and brightness 

From her skin. 

She was the best brutal entertainment, 

Never running out 

Of ways to terrorize and strip her

Of everything she was 

Till one day

She was gone 

And we didn’t know what to do.

Believe it or not, I loved her. 

The way she smelled of fresh rain, 

Of soil and water releasing 

Running down her fingers and legs 

That girl was so much water. 

I loved the things she made,

Delicately and intricately arranging 

A canvas of beauty for no one to see

Not for the purpose of being seen,

she made it for us. 

Gave unselfishly and endlessly 

But we always took too much. 

I heard of a man who went digging for oil. 

Plunged his fingers deep into her caves

Ignoring her screams and cries,

He ripped out all he could 

Leaving her empty and torn in two

Shaking in pain.

Even as we begged him to stop 

All of us stood by watching,

The hideous bystanders 

Shocked and quiet 

No one dared disrupting.

She gave me a space for my feet

To feel something beneath me and around me 

That was bigger than myself.

She gave me rest for my body 

To lay down and be held 

In her soothing arms,

She gave me a home to have 

Without questions or conditions 

She gave me food and water,

Life to nurture 

To fill me up, hold me down 

And hold me together.

I loved her so much 

And I just want to tell her 

Before she’s gone,

When without her 

we won’t know what to do. 


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