Every Time

Every time.
She makes it through.

Sometimes I sit back after the storms and think.
Man I shouldn’t have.
What if that was too much for her.

I shouldn’t be so honest.
Maybe it’d make her feel better.

Instead, she loves the truth.
The truth is what makes her feel better.

Once in a while I sense her laughter.
When she’s quietly thinking to herself.

One woman, every woman.
Mother Nature in her peace and in her fury.

There’s no person I’d rather weather the storms of life with.

When the song of the birds emerges in the sunrise she spreads sunlight upon my face.
When the evening moon rises, in my nervous childish laughter before bedtime, her consistent confidence from loving us so comforts me to sleep.

She’s like the lightening that threatens to strike.
She’s like the hurricane in the ring of fire.

She’s like the best, the very best thing that’s ever happened to me.

The gentle feathers that gave me wings.

“What if I fall?”
“Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?”

So I gather what’s left of my courage while she teaches my spirit to soar.

Suzanne Sateri