She Walks in Elegance and Grace

    
    She walks in elegance and grace,
    her long robes like great wings in the breeze,
    straight as an arrow
    she floats across the desert. . .
    sands streaming around her naked feet,
    a black cutout against a white hot sky. . .
    burnt amber sands reflecting
    a setting sun . . .
    her face dreaming. . .

    she is the eagle . .  high in the mountain
    she is the wolf . . . hunting in the valley
    she is the rose . .. resplendent in glory
    she is the river . . running to the sea . . .

    her longings bound within her chest . . .
    imprisoned in a beating heart . .
    deep beneath her ebony flesh . . .
    her eyes lift up to seek the moon
    a cold and distant land . .
    and yet her hands reach out to touch
    a face so pale . .  so white,
    as yet not bright
    against a dark and vicious night . . .
    she dreams . . .

    she is the dance of the lonely bear
    she is the song of the sparrow in flight
    she is the strength of the trees on the hill
    she is the heartbeat of the salty sea .. ..

    Intrepid, she rises in the cruelty of dawn,
    her hollowed nest, a cavity soon filled
    an ephemeral memory . . . like a lost     dream
    as from a misty melody of hope . .
    forever she glides across an endless land
    like the lonely stark shadow
    of a sailing fish beneath a golden surf. . .
    fresh water, not but desire . . .
    she veils her dreaming eyes
    against the stinging sands

    she is the emblem of a noble race
    she is the ghost, a reflection of the dead . ..
    she is the beginning and she is the end
    she is the living for she still dreams . .

    rising over dunes .. .
    shimmering in the skies,
    for a brief flash . . .  unveiling her eyes
    she sees an oases . . . a place of hope
    a spark of water . . . silver and gold
    a sign of life . . .  a deep green shade
    she descends between the sounds of beating drums . . .
    a wind from heaven's open door . . .
    washes away her footprints . . .then from the shadows
    they take her hands as she is lead
    to a circle of others . . .
    and then they all begin to dance . . .

    she is passion which drives the heart
    she is love which heals the wounds
    she is grace which feeds the soul
    she is faith which builds the dream