Uncertain Grace

She is the soul of a gypsy, 

a feather, blown in the wind

wandering alone

choosing to be lost.
Soliciting solitude 
as one might solicit company.

she is a rarity

undiscovered but highly sought after

a star, burning through her mortality

Her radiance sears my eyes 

but I cannot look away.

She is an idea of brilliance,

the thought of a thought

An unsteady light.

In January,

a spark of static on a dark sheet.

she is a mother wearing her child's face

needed and unwanted

she must be an apparition

moving, as she does, with uncertain grace

leaving, in her wake, a power she does not know.

Caught, in her halo of light,

she is an everyday angel.

[Photo cred: TheSartorialist]