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Flustered, I am paralyzed

For what I want is realized

Captured, released like unfettered bird

She was a sorceress with written word

Hungry for learning, zealous, committed

Corralled by the customs, but wickedly witted

Distinctly precocious, not supercilious

Unconventional and staunchly rebellious

She remained hidden, unbidden

Her true passions forbidden

Then bid us good riddance

And giddy with yen

Confident to call ourselves poet

Are we aware we are in her debt

Would she, if able, even collect?

We pay her homage in our writings

And thank you if they’re found inviting

Imperceptible nod, an appreciation

And I, in accordance, continue creation

In hopes of achieving the smallest of goals

To reach, to beseech, the meeting of souls

Not in my time, as she not in hers

Elusive acceptance we hope we deserve

But in our pursuit, we remain undeterred

Until willingly, or not, we are hereafter interred…

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