She stood still

In the field of grain

Their long waving arms rough

And scratching against her own

She moved her arms against the sea

Control slipping through her thin weak fingers

As ineffective as the grains fighting the wind

But she closed her eyes and stood her ground

Her muddy, slippery, freshly rained on ground

Her hair,

Wind whipped and wild

Moves with a startling vengeance

Blinding her to the sight of the mountains that stand in the distance

Their dark rocky surfaces fading into the white of snow and clouds

Their indomitable height reflecting the might

Of her scarred and burned charcoal spine

Her back straight in resistance to the forceful bending wind

It’s strength taking the words straight out of her mouth and

Losing them in its forever fleeting fury

But none of it speaks to the light of her eyes

Whose sparkling bright color shines

Even through the film of their oyster black irises

Even though the net of spinning hair that covers her eyes

Even though the words lost in the wind

And like her back it stands in resistance

To the mountains in the distance

Do you think she laughed,

when the wind came for her

truth?