I like to do things that summons me back to being the little girl who used to trail after butterflies through mango groves
feeling the motherly caresses of the wind gliding along her hair
And today as I rest underneath a mossy oak tree
dazed by patterns amongst the intertwined branches
I am again that girl
who used to sit on the hood of the white Suzuki jeep exchanging silence with the moon
decorating time
space
with daydreams
each inhalation of grass fragranced air
I discover strength to forgive myself
for time had also blanketed me in
defense mechanisms to
persevere through a reality
I struggled to suit in
anxiety
sadness
anger
hopelessness
hope
resilience
never realizing that these
are side effects of being a warrior
though mostly a dreamer
wanderer
free spirit
the little girl with armor
combating out of self love and preservation
needing help only from the wind to lift the weight off
and the moon to remember me
as I dance to the soundtrack of the countryside
into the masquerade of liberation
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