And then she whispered to them, who could, who would, who might, 
just hear:

Do not overestimate, mistake me, for the dandy-lioness I was,
prior to the raging storms.

Do not underestimate, invalidate, the vulnerabilities of my body, 
my psyche;

Because sixteenhundredandfifty some odd days, of raging storms.

For they, these vulnerabilities, are now the fluff that may quite well, 
with the slightest breeze,

blow into the ever moving, never to be seen again waters,
of a magical stream. ©

~Marcela: flying (too) low to the ground, but still in the air…

May 22, 2023