Unfolded Stories

Peer not through these wanting eyes,
for whom she sees is what defies.
What seems lost she never had,
but caught only a glimpse from what she's seen and heard.
The absurdities of it all seem so unfair,
and as she reaches out to touch me, she can only stare.
Through the torrents of her fears
that sometimes subside,
but today are a ferocious lion,
her tears well up.
She is haunted by these years -
the rage, the hate, the aloof vague distance
and dispondence toward her who didn't ask for it.
Her face is supple like a rose,
and her eyes are sad and worn, but still show a glimpse of light
that she calls hope.
She keeps waiting and wanting, for what she doesn't know,
for the part that hasn't shown itself,
in this nightmare.
She's only had a glimpse of what she's seen and heard,
but she feels it's there and she wants it, so she continues to hold on.
She holds on waiting for this story to unfold.