My friend,
she had sunset hair,
but she wanted to fly.
So, earthbound
she rallied to keep
the air pure,
the earth breathing,
and she took under her wing
those of us confined
by shyness and our mothers’ thumbs.
She was loud.
She was passionate.
She burned so brightly.
Earthbound,
until someone lent her wings
and then she flew for brief moments of time.
Passionate,
now silent
save for the air streaming past her body,
she flew on borrowed wings,
forgetting, as had so many before her
who had tried to touch
what was not theirs,
that what is borrowed must be returned.
She flew,
she burned so brightly,
she forgot,
and there was no one to catch her
when she fell.
My friend,
she had sunset hair,
but she wanted wings

in memory of
Zara Elizabeth Sunday
July 4, 2002