Oh? Then I should speak…of the little girl who was told: to save the world, that love is not important, and no matter what, don’t dare ever let others know you have feelings.
So. She wears a mask, hides behind façade of calmness, takes it all in stride… a professional success. But the truth is she’s a poet- she remembers meeting spirit guides while a babe, a white girl called to Native path.
She feels your pain as hers. She uncloaks at night, tears flowing, heals others from afar, walks in two worlds while others struggle in one. Shrugs, maybe nothing is real anyway?
Denied love, she never did quite get that part right- her soulmate is a married man, known her whole life. Her real partners fled in succession. Her passion for all things living sustains her- not a companion.
She carries more scars than most, less than some, but they are all on the inside. Ask her sometime how old her children would be. She still needs to save the world- but first, she must forgive herself.
Her skills and mind her absolution, she hones them like knives she uses to cut to the truth of any situation. A survival tactic, learned from ascetic self-reliance. Animals flock to her, as kin, while people let her pass.
Before you say to her, “I wish I could be like you, you have done so much”- consider:
that she would smile and say, “That is only appearance”.