MISS JEAN
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She traveled in the night
under many stars
until she—too weary—
lit the candle of her mind
and saw light everywhere in the dark.
Then she gathered herself to her labors
and grew a beautiful heart
which molded her body
from within her body.
And with time,
thought became a splendor
radiant from beyond the world:
and so her latter end
grew to a glory which welcomed her in.
Then she arose like a shimmering white
butterfly from a rough cocoon
and laughed to think
about the dear wrinkles
which had so recently grown
to thickly cover her old house.
Image by Wassily Kandinsky
Poem © Blake Steele 1992