Gone is the wind, gone without me. I am standing here, facing the lake, waiting for hope to come. I want my life to matter in this men’s world. Broken wings are a bad omen for a woman. Or is it destiny? So absurd to be an angel, so pitiful to be a motionless hawk. I linger on the shore when I should be on the mountain top. Bill was right, and the question remains. My soul is flying so high sometimes. What a grace to be able to visit such an unlimited space. What a disgrace to forget my own peculiar pace. No blame, no shame. A woman’s life is a lifetime piece of art.
- alencreclaire