Oasis

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When she cries

She trembles 

A broken, kept-together soul 

These tears have been held captive for far too long and now they stream down, relentlessly 

Oh, and how beautiful they look crawling down her innocent, abused canvass of a dusty road upon her face

She is her very own oasis 

She walks steady with a splattered gleam in her eye from the green pasture that promises truth and hope 

This is what she keeps close to her – a heart to hold on to 

Leaving a moment in time behind

Where reflections tell your stories, is a very beautiful and scary thing

Liberation, well defined 

By Elizabeth Mendiola 

©2013

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