In the darkest hours she appeared.
I felt held by her.
Her brilliance is Live,
Unrehearsed, untelevised,
A slam, a stand up poetry jam.
She poked me from behind
And I turned to her with a mic.
Her mind is a rap.
She dives deep to find
That which is not yet tapped,
and then shares
The real, the true, the beautiful
The kind.
This conversation is rare.
Her self, her journey:
Twisted, broken, bent, warped,
Snapped.
An inner frame of flames, as she speaks
She strips to bare
Naked.
I sense her in real time.
She speaks in answers to questions
She never knew she could ask.
I listen. She solves riddles
right then, right there.
------------
For Qurasha
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