By Mom
To Cait on her 26th birthday
On that Ides of March,
A day for the forlorn,
Your life began, then ebbed, then won.
Contradiction born.
Dazzling in the dark.
A shadow in the light.
Blonde yet smart, savage, kind,
A princess, then a knight.
The love of paper parents
Fighting fires in your name,
They gave their lives, their hearts, their souls
To make sure you’re not tamed.
For you were born a warrior
To fight dragons for the frail,
To give power to the weak,
To breathe wind in others’ sails.
Raging joy. Perfectly scarred.
So simple yet so fierce.
Your “very-ness”, your great extremes,
Were meant for goals like this,
To tell stories meant for change,
Nurture courage in your tribe.
To use the passion you’ve been gifted
To bring truth to all the lies.
A quarter of a century,
But don’t think that you’re done.
Your “very-ness”, your fire, your fight,
You’ve only just begun!
Flying Pigs 