She bleeds out her words,
Not for your entertainment,
Not for your approval,
Merely to connect her soul to another’s.
You mock her rhyme and rhythm.
You declare her too obscure in metaphor,
Too flowery in imagery,
As though your resonance was her aim.
You mere voyeur,
Eavesdropping on a conversation
Deeper than the universe,
Policing the syllables
That are life for another;
Across untold centuries,
Down winding roads you could never navigate,
Drowning on ocean floors you can’t chart on a map,
Slaying dragons that would burn you to a crisp
On your high and mighty throne of unnecessary, unsolicited opinion.
Her magic will find its purpose.
Her heartsong will find its mark.
And it is not for you to discount and disapprove,
Because it is not for you at all.