A Poem by Brigid Cooley
The soft look in your eyes contradicts the way they can cut through the bullshit.
You have the eyes of an eagle, but with the grace of a swan.
While some of us only ever see the shadows, you look knowingly towards the sun.
You are a warrior for others; someone who Life drafted into the business of saving.
I marvel at the way you notice the faded scars on the wrists of busy-bodies.
I revel in the way you can detect the patterns that piano fingers quietly beat onto tabletops.
I have learned life lessons from the way you can read between lines.
I have discovered that unearthing the muddy truth is not something you try to do; you are simply doing what you were made to do.
Speaking as someone who is good at hiding: thank you for respectfully invading my privacy.
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