A complexity died (my tribute)

This elderly woman ceased.

She gave up on withholding.

She set her newfound sights

and passed through them.

She found inward images

that guided her

with self-permission.

Her riddle

of perplexing circumstance

is released.

Her tremendous need

for solitary intimacy

was quenched

by solemn aloneness.

Her emotional persuasion

of distance

not denied but escorted along.

Her driven-ness

to exert rigid control

over nothing, not ignored

but respected into repose.

Her duplicitous nature

never to be revealed.

For on the one hand,

humans that disappoint

and on the other,

felines to love

but not

in the presence of the other.

Her inspirations,

on the material plane,

an appropriate disaster

from the love of her life,

a betrayal beyond recovery.

The talents of her being

shared into a warehouse

of memories.

That her low self esteem

could ever be replaced

by the acknowledged love

from another,

a fruitless effort

and subsequent distraction.

Spirit beyond means

is what she ultimately possessed.

She wore robes

of emotional long-suffering

as under-garments

and the appearances

of keen observation

as the adequate protection

of self-mentorship.

She was an in-fighter,

excused from all lesser wars,

for the art of self-perseverance.

She was blessed with a sharp tongue

but she often bellowed

with electric silence.

She was always the guardian

at the gate

as part of her natural richness

of kingdom.

She had no treasure to give

if you could not pass her test

of a trusting manner.

She knew the primal code of living

but not what it meant

to anyone else.

Inspiration was a mole

to her emotional self

but she was also a sensitive

to where she was vulnerable

from within.

She liked responsibility

as if it were a hobby of choice.

She thought at many levels

at the same time

and she wished for telepathy

but was rebuffed

by disagreement all around.

She surrendered to the failure

of popularity

and settled for candid

often bluntness of truth.

She found herself

to be internally vexed

but lived it down

in the privacy

of her own sweetness of exile.

She comforted her own torment

by spiritual means.

Her best life on the planet

was off the planet, so to speak.

If you were dismissed by her

you could get in line behind herself.

She had investments in theories

about many things

the way some people

do needlepoint or crochet.

She could stare out into space

and see something relevant

for her being.

She was a self-imposed orphan

of observation

and wore a vacant mirror for a mask

in all first encounters.

She identified with the down trodden

of the domestic animal kingdom.

She would always take the time

however short that would be

to give you the once over.

You could be pardoned

for your ignorance

but never for your actions

in her presence.

If scrutiny were a discipline

then she often wore it

as a long suit .

Beneath it all,

there was a rose

though seldom offered.

Behind it all,

she wished for your light

to shine through.

Above it all,

she was a profound love

though rare to freely share it.

And with it all,

you had to know,

there was a diamond in the rough.

A complexity died,

beholding and never broken . . .