⌘ When I Photograph a Woman

April 2, 2016

That moment
when I photograph a woman,
a woman I hardly know,
and she begins to bend to me,

        like a tulip     stretching for a spot in     sunlight,

she lets stiffness and fear
fall
to
the
floor,
(a silk dress)

her muscles
relax
under my gaze,

it takes time,

it takes both of us being a little scared,

but there is always the sudden turn
where her cheek
becomes more of a song,
where her shoulders and confused hands
become a stillness,
rest,
where her eyes
become a soft glimmer invitation,
and she lets me in,
a door opens to this hallowed shrine and
she lets me find her vulnerable story,
lens flaring at her light,

a wildflower bursting from hillside,
a quiet moon,
a moving ocean,
a red flame,

the wall of who she thinks she has to be,
crumbles into petals
and becomes a narrow path toward her,
a path I walk,
lens glass focusing on the destination that is her,
our hearts
speaking to each other
and listening at the same time.

 

 

 



 

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