There is a comfort in knowing Julia,
Not unlike the comfort of finding your first blanket,
Something you want to keep holding,
Something to warm you and warn you of the cold that goes
With something to be aware of.
She has shared my very consciousness,
Being conscious of me, and I of her, from that very first moment
When strangers with no ill intention, in ill feeling,
no surprise, no intention to impress or dress for the occasion of our meeting.
Her complex simplicity breeds a kind of radiance,
that only the truly living can appreciate.
She is alive with the sense of not wanting to waste one precious moment,
and moments with her are precious.
There will be a room full of strangers I know (to say hello to)
And there will be Julia,
Yet just when I think I know her,
She evades me with an elusive kind of beauty
Not uncommon in the loveliest of days,
When all is going as one would choose,
you cannot lose a beauty like that.
It is inherent in her nature and she captures nature as one would capture a moment
that never comes twice.
She is shackled liberty,
in a wild or constant essay or bid
for the kind of freedom that such as her, for so many reasons, must fight for.
I dedicate these fleeting thoughts to her, who took so much time, valuable time, to know me,
an anonymous body, whom she has the ability to turn into an individual.
Our differences lie in what we will never know about each other,
she demands acknowledgment,
and a malleable ear, that bends with ease
to the melodies that come from her mouth.
In knowing her, I’ve known a member of that rare breed,
a person that cares not for the world in general,
but for people in it, spinning around with the best and the
worst of the rest of the anonymous bodies.
Julia, a little daylight in an atmosphere of claustrophobia
that arises from lack of response to the individual.
The mortal sin that leads to fatal depersonalisation
of the important individual, all of us,
the complications of day to day wear and tear
are ironed out, of half way there
Just by her being there.