Call Her

She is soft, like the slow kiss of a crisp autumn night, yet strong, like the determined root of a beautiful cherry tree

She is loud, louder than her favorite song playing over static filled waves, yet quiet, like a white canary - whispering segments of love and joy and pain of half filled moons come and gone

Call her: Bravery 

She speaks the language of hope and forgiveness and sings back the words of your own heart when you believe you have forgotten them 

She listens to sorrows with a calming sense of ecstasy and triumphs with a benevolent sense of eagerness 

Call her: Compassion 

She gives strength as if she is an endless well of life, yet carries a elegant darkness within herself that could shatter any heart 

She lives and breathes to ensure the happiness and well-being of others, yet is rarely noticed - kept hidden, within the dusty pages of an old romance novel - caressed from the deep in moments when the world truly needs her 

Call her: Mystery 

Like the wounded healer that she is - she rises each day to make life better for those in pain with x-ray love and cooled, electric power 

She is not superhuman, but merely mortal like all of us - forced to cry and bleed and ask God 'why"

But this is what makes her great 

She has heard the song within our heart and able to sing it back when we cannot go on 

Call her: Rhianon 

This poem is about: 
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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