the person and place
in that memory
to which I cling
are no more.
she is no more
who she was then.
she is weathering a storm
that is sculpting her
into someone new.
I see threads of the beauty that was,
shining in the fabric of what is
and what is becoming.
this beautiful tapestry
that is emerging from the storm.
she is no more
who she was then.
she is becoming more magnificent.
gold from the refiner’s fire.