First thing this morning she blew me away

Broke me into tears. 

The desperation on her face

Mingled with my years. 

What is my life? What have I done? 

And who cares 

About my sterile dreams? 

Privileged, predicated 

A stranger to real hardship

I go about professing

My inflated importance, 

While she rages against the storm. 

She too is just a woman

With dreams she dares fight for 

With all her fears high and proud

Riding upon her bared soul

She gives of herself as I never have

I never have needed to

Will she succeed, will I stand up

As she rides astride the jealous night? 

I stare quietly at her again 

Etched in my heart, a debt

A debt I surely cannot repay

As she rages against the storm.