I’ve been blessed to spend the past five days in one of the most interesting cities I’ve ever seen among some of the most incredible and beautiful people I’ve ever known. This poem is for each of them and all of them and the city that gave them to me.

She contradicts herself at every turn.
One minute smiling, full of light,
The next a shadow of days gone by
or maybe ones
that never were.
So young and stunning,
so old and wrinkled.
So new and sparkling and brimming
with hope.
So ancient and weary
and longing
for a time
when the whole world was hers
and bowed and curtsied in her presence.
Everything about her is full of power
and vulnerability.
But under it all is a life
that her children are living
and sometimes she can barely see.
Dancing, twirling, jumping, winking
at each new suitor
in his shiny clothes
and promises,
their blood racing, hurtling out of control
like a river that can’t wait
to get off its mountain
and rush headlong
into the waiting sea.
While every fiber of her being,
every muscle and tendon and ligament
aches and groans,
remembering a time
when she knew
how to love with a love
that heroes write about
and sing songs to the heavens.
A love that dances and twirls and jumps and winks
and smiles
and embraces
everyone she meets
like her first friend
or her last lover.
Smiling, full of light.
Young and stunning and old and beautiful,
while her children dance
and love
to give her life.