A letter from Jul 18, 2022

It is a scarcity one makes of herself, for someone to resonate with the poet’s candor of vacuity. It is her truth to never shed a light derived from her core. To never let it slip from her hold and touch the others. Oblivious, she is, as the catalyst of luminescence. For she feels it profoundly in her senses and soul, how each crevice fetes dusk like sun rays to her window. How her mother’s lullaby echoes a ghostly chorus. That any commendation would bear banality. No matter how poetic a lyric, she feels it designed to spiral her dignity And to which no song could ever transcend,nor Surpass the melodies uttered by her bearer, It would continue to reverberate through her womanhood Guide her through motherhood, and Devour her in her grave until she’s nothing again but a memory and a name. -Daisy