My Shadow

She held in her hand,
a child,
which did not often speak.

The time ticks,
and the people live,
and the child holds her breath.

Dare not release the wind,
Just above the mountain's peak,
where the walls fall into short oceans.

Holding cold hand,
Asking for little else,
I evaded my very being.

The cat sits in the dumpster and feeds,
She looks over to your eyes,
and says 'I am that which speaks'.

I stand between my two shadows,
Expecting more light to set me free,
but that which is light is me.