When the woman with the blue eyes arrived I created a deliberate silence in hopes to not break the spell that she danced with. Each year she got closer in age to God as brilliance bled into her New Jersey bones. The world was hers for the taking so she took all of it. But her baggage was so full of insecurities that she had to sit on it to get it to close.

She was 18 years old and some days she wondered if she could see the universe from her bedroom window. She hoped this town could teach her everything. Like how to let go.

There were people inside her arms. They were the ones who’d died. They were the ones she’d loved. They helped her spread all the compassion that she kept piled up in corners. They spread it through embraces that never seemed to last long enough to take all the pain away.

The rain carried her home while her arms searched for a forever kind of freedom.