For Carrie Fisher with deep appreciation and abiding empathy

A desert place between the seas
In a valley watered from the south.
The air the texture of a Van Gogh canvas.
The canyon hills again on fire:
A land of make believe.

There floats a mind unsettled,
a spirit unharnessed, roaming pensive
From a trauma often spoken.
An endless struggle of creativity and apathy.

High mood; low mood fade to black
What Pole today will she tread?
Leap out of or stay in bed;
Attempting to be brave through sometimes overwhelming dread.

In my eyes I see a woman of substance.
With my ears I hear a woman speak of strength.
In my mind my touch can feel her power;
Bitter-sweet the taste of her lips.

Erudite and exclusive is not her essence.
Earthy, she walks alone among the stars.
Never struggling to be who she is -
Steeling the courage to be her all.

The daffodils of Spring returned in Victorian tradition.
The Summer's roses complete with thorns.
Mum was the word for Autumn's proposal.
Winter's holly berries so pretty yet fatal.

The bloom is off the Flower Children yet she remains everlasting.