She shines with a light that she cannot see
because those around her are bright by mere reflection.
How can I show her what is plain as day,
that beams from her heart frighten, entrance, and embolden us?
Language fails when confronted with fact beyond words.
Some stories can only be told by life.
Her truth will wither if picked apart into phrases.
Only the breathing whole will suffice.
I can show her more of what she sees in me and
believe those qualities she exclaims, though I deny.
I will kindle my own flame to greater fire that I may say,
“This is what you are, what you have made me, and what you must be.”
