Release

Rarely does she draw attention to herself

she arrives in a moment —

rising from the darkness

a subtle shift, a breath,

as fear melts

into the morning light,

to meet her embrace.

There are times she is so quiet

if you are not careful,

you can miss her —

in the passing of a glance,

in the hesitation of a voice,

in the tentative movement of fingers through hair.

Calmly she waits

for she knows—

doubt, like vapor, turns to mist,

and rises after summer storms,

brushing the ridge,

beyond the valley

dissolving —

into the blue release

of her embrace.