I love the way you toss your hand out the window when you drive;
Careless and free,
feeling the rush of wind pass through the space between your fingers,
the earth’s breath kissing your knuckles.
I love the way you go barefoot when we walk through the woods.
People passing by put strange glances your way,
and you tell them they’d understand,
if only they took their shoes off too.
They do not know the softness of pine needles under bare toes.
They have no connection with the ground under their feet,
it does not speak to them how it does to you.
I love the way you sing with your eyes closed,
focused on the sound of the drums, the sound of that ancient heartbeat.
The language sliding off your tongue a victorious cry
that we are still here, and we haven’t forgotten.
They may have tried to pry it from our lips,
but songs fly up from your lungs, like sparks from a fire
that is still burning strong.
I love the way you laugh, throwing your head back,
letting loose your joy into the air,
pollinating the space nearby with your hard-earned light.
The world may be a dark place,
but you cast that brilliance wherever you can,
and it gets a little brighter.
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