How many times I have walked the same path but my eyes never reached to her height. This early morning her statue so powerful could not miss. Look at her dance on the rocky mountain hill! What teased her body into such a sway of joy? How do her roots keep her in place? Like the strength of a slender blade of grass pushing through cement, her seed took root and would not be denied. Fixed in awe, neck bent back and my upward gaze amazed I stood. And then the whisper, “No little one, do not say ‘would not be denied.’ Say instead, I chose to dance.”  And so may I.