She is sunshine. She is
warmth, a smothering hug;
with her left hand, she embraces you,
and with her right hand, rubs circles
on your back. She is a rain cloud.
She is cold and gray; with her left hand
she pats your shoulder, and with her right hand,
she clasps your throat. She is
a rainbow, a scattering of colors
after the rain and before the sun: the swirl
of light between clouds. She tucks
your hair behind your ear and whispers
STAY. Her silent stare makes you
a stranger in your own skin: her home
is not your home.
No matter where you roam, she is
a sliver of laughter in your heart.
You always return to her open arms;
they close around you and constrict. You are
no longer an inhabitant here. You are
not a dweller, not a stranger:
You are her guest.
~~~
Photo by Andrew Neel on Unsplash