Sitting in this olive tree
Upon the branch most concealed,
I gaze down upon
Your tender head,
Holding my breath
So you won't hear me watching you.
You go about your business
Unaware of any presence –
You who transform into a gazelle
As soon as you leave the eyesight
Of those people whom you perceive as
Vicious critics, ready for the kill.
Such a gorgeous creature you are –
So graceful, calm, and at ease.
“One must not be seen as prey,”
“One must always be ready
To blend into the ugliness of this world,”
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