Trust

The grace in her eyes

And the bells ‘round her feet

Ragged stare

A longing

deep breath

But the cost just wasn’t enough

to verify

or vilify

the step it would take

But her weight

shifted

And she followed her  through

An empty space

No color

No window

Just a sense

Things would change

The gypsy led the march

Up a staircase drenched in white

A right

Of passage

To drain the ashes

Gone to stone within her veins

As they stopped

At the top

Gypsy pushed the wall into a room
just as vacant and colorless.
Two footprints
marked with mud
stared from the blank boards at their feet
They faced the floor

Blind in the sweltering light

“This is the mark of a life

left behind.”