Looking at 22 year old Sarah yesterday
with her wispy Mohawk, newly dyed, buzz cut to either side,
basking in the warm sun in a tank top.
The hair is now a cross of purple and pink
the bruised eye is healing back to normal.
She is beautiful, head tilted by her ever interested smile.
It's her vital, escapist enery, her hopefulness, the innocence enduring, however much the exposure to corruption and death.
She lost her father - to suicide - just a month ago, and my guess is that it's hardly registered.
She says as much - that it doesn't seem real. And she cannot understand why.
How could she, with that edgy, gawky, all limbs newness of a newborn colt
driven by the outward focused energy she doesn't even know is born to her
the engine of her bones, her questioning
behind all the dances she will invent.
She made me think of all the various forms of beauty,
including the ugly seeming ones
Because her glow had been invisible to me, hidden within the emaciated waif, the lost, clueless orphan, dancing in puddles and accepting candy from preying strangers.
Beauty then was only in the eye of the desperately beholden.
But thank Creation for these eyes anyway - seeing Ugly or seeing Beauty, it's all the same. Another facade of the mysterious.
Shadings and light, mood and temperment. Timing.
The order of things - chicken or egg, morning or night, death or life, ascension or fall.
The things that are to come that I cannot yet know.
What roads will Sarah Caine follow? What highways will discover her, alone, seeing her father all anew, and beginning to feel that hurt inside, all the places in her heart he will only revisit in her imagination, or in her dreams, or in her blaze of faith that Good things happen, and there is a tomorrow where forgetfulness is served up in spoonfuls of light and possibility.
She will surely find her way away and back again. She has these roads to travel, limits to discover and ignore, the impossible to achieve and make commonplace, even forgetful, before age and time will capture her, will mold her into something less earthling
but more and more achingly human.
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