Love Poem to Lady L.

Before I wrote songs, I wrote poems.  On Lady Liberty's 125th anniversary, I thought it seemed appropriate to drag this one from the vaults. 

Love Poem to Lady L.

Longing for her thighs
As long as city blocks
For her hammered skin
Once the color of a new sun
One of her knees is slightly bent
The sandaled foot upraised
And balanced on the toe
As if she's waiting to be kissed.

Overproud, alone
She is remote and guarded
Stately in her exile
Silent, stranded
A giantess
In a land of tiny people.
The closer I get to her
The less of her I see:
She is too great
For the naked eye to handle.

She says:
Give me your tired, your poor
And I am drawn
To her battered island
To the vaulting heights
Of bolted metal girders
To the sculpted features
Of her graven visage
To the framework of her
Thin-worn copper structures.

I stand before her
In the wind that makes her
Resonate like a bell.
Everything smells of salt
And ancient pennies:
Metal, sea.
Lady, I swear this to you
By the birds that wheel above:

I am yours. 
I am like you. 
I am yearning to breathe free.

Ellia Bisker, 1999