I look into her eyes
and see the little girl
hard at work
unriddling the world.
They said she’d
been here before
when she was born
this child of mine.
Perhaps that’s why
she throws herself
into the fullness of life
knowing it is counted
in a blink.
When she falls
I pick her up
and kiss the bruises.
Some I cannot reach.
They land inside
hidden from my view.
I know they hurt
behind her smiles.
She is beyond brave
this child of mine.
I’ve watched her
bounce back
time after time
not unlike
when she was three
on a trampoline
in Melbourne
refusing to stop
even for the dark.
She was reaching
for the stars.
She paints them
in her music
and if you listen
to the variations
on the theme
of her life
you can hear them.
