Ran fast with scissors sharp blood on her hands in her highest heels
and the fur of a borrowed woman.
Scandalized a mother born not to bear shame
and rollicked a dad born not to bear regrets.
Never the reflection of anything, she was always her own light.
A muzzle flash shot to the heart,
a sonic boom harbinger and echo,
a hurricane to shake her family tree,
and blow away the ashes of every bridge she'd crossed.
Never inched toward anything, only ran until there was no place left for her to go,
this woman of so many stories.
A life lived loud until her unquiet death.
It was me.
I cut the tree in the woods you couldn’t hear falling; you were too far away.
Closer now, I am calling to you – Can you hear?
I will wait for you, wa…