Fire In Her Bones

When she opens her eyes, the seas sigh in reply. When she speaks, the clouds roll apart to reveal a golden sunrise. When her hands create, the land trembles with fervent joy.

She is gentle
yet fierce.

Her snarl of determination can so quickly turn into the softest smile.

She embodies perseverance and her hearts tremble at the pain of others - she reaches and strives and yet her storm is
calm.

Her fight is bared before her like the leaves of a tree
so green, yet quickly red and brown.

Dormancy has never been her name. It has never defined her.
Because her seasons change with the wind, and she refuses to stay on the ground -
she rises to azure skies, ever so high.

She speaks, and as the clouds reveal their hidden beauty, she becomes aware of such Holy things that all the rest can do
is sit in awe, and watch as she humbly returns - a girl brushed azure.

She has more than traces of her Father upon her - she is created so finely, so deftly and with the utmost skill of the Master Builder. She speaks with His kindness, and delivers wrath with His righteous anger. She tunes to Him like one tunes a radio - it took time to find His frequency, yet all the time she searched, her ears always sought the Truth.

I have been with her on part of her path, and I pray with every fibre of myself that I will be with her ever onward - yet what has laid in between; between our distance and our unsaid paragraphs is what she has fought for - what her scars show for. I could never take those for her, as dearly as I wished to.

If I had taken them, she would have never been brushed such a victorious color.

She is the brave girl, the one who cries VICTORY when all others weep defeat.

No, she is not without scars - not without doubt and trepidation. She has wandered like the blind and cried where none heard. I cannot claim to know, but she has felt the depths where none ever deserve. Yet she rose - like a lion roaring in defiance she grasped every foothold, no matter how much further downward she tumbled, and she fought - no, those scars were not for nothing.

There is reverence on the outside - of those looking at her from afar, they find it hard to understand how one could fall so far, so hard, yet stand as she does. Don’t fool yourselves, for there are times when she does not understand it either.

Yet she keeps moving. Understanding is a fickle thing when we were not made to understand all things.

So she will constantly and evermore be an enigma - a fierce, gentle, righteous, kind, truth-seeking, victorious, brave enigma.

And I,
who call her dear one,
lift her to Holy ears

- Bless her this day, and bring her joy and blessings in this new year. -

Happy 21st Birthday, Marianna.