She cradles her weakness deep,

tenderly touching places

that crisply curl past their prime;

she treasures bent blooms, broken

foliage. When petals lose

their sheen, her soul stirs, shouting

joy in exuberant notes,

song of the ancients who learned

secrets from secret sorrows.

To such spirits as hers, pain

is welcomed as Mentor, friend

whose sage presence sears blossoms

but harvests seeds. Thankful

heart, this, whose troubles have stripped

away the peripheral,

baubles which blocked her brilliance,

kept her from being a star.