the trembling pulse of a woman
who face the storm
is louder than the jingling
of jewelry’s eyes that deceit our eyes

her satin sheet is fluttering
the reign of wounds covered her up,
it doesn’t make her blind to love
nor make her heart dies

in the middle of a storm she always
locks her pounding chest
to the holiest voice that can be heard
by refuses to hear the falsehood
of earth saga

she is beauty
without the need to any comparison
in the bed of garden flowers
not even in any jewelry stores

Poetry Prairie – 2015